• 

. 

• 


PLAYS  FOR  POEM-MIMES 

By 

ALFRED  KREYMBORG 

Author  of  " Mushrooms" 


THE  OTHER  PRESS 

Seventeen  East  Fourteenth  Street 

NEW  YORK 

1918 


COPYRIGHT,   1918 
By  ALFRED   KREYMBORG 


Dramatic  Rights  reserved  by  the  author 

For  permission  to  perform  any  of  these  plays,  address  the 
author,  care  of  THE  OTHER  PRESS.    Infringe 
ment  of  copyrights  will  be  prosecuted 


For  permission  to  reprint  "When  The  Willow  Nods,"  "Jack's 
House,"  and  "Lima  Beans,"  the  author  wishes  to  thank,  respec 
tively,  "Poetry,  a  Magazine  of  Verse,"  "Others,  a  Magazine  of  the 
New  Verse,"  and  the  publishers  of  "The  Provincetown  Plays." 


n 


To  MY  LASS  AND  LAD: 
LOUISE  NASHER 

AND 

HERMANN  KREYMBORG 


396678 


Plays  for  Poem-Mimes  might  be  defined  as  panto 
mime  acting  or  dancing  of  folk  or  automatons  to  an 
accompaniment  of  rhythmic  lines,  in  place  of  music. 
In  view  of  the  fact  that  in  all  these  experiments  the 
characters  speak  (with  the  exception  of  the  children 
in  When  The  Willow  Nods,  the  wife  in  Jack's  House, 
and  the  shadows  in  Blue  and  Green),  little  more  than 
a  semi-dance  of  gesture  can  be  added  by  them  to  their 
delivery  of  the  lines,  but  free  dancing  might  be  in 
dulged  during  the  interludes  of  silence.  It  is  impera 
tive  that  the  reading  tempo  and  the  introduction  of 
pantomiming  shall  adhere  to  the  sense  connotation 
rather  than  the  rhythm  of  the  lines.  I  have  to  make 
this  small  excursion  into  the  realm  of  professorial 
instruction  because  the  good  people  who  have  been 
kind  as  well  as  the  good  people  who  have  been  un 
kind  to  what  is  commonly  and  erroneously  termed,  free 
verse,  have  slipped  into  the  error  of  scanning  rather 
than  of  feeling  the  line  divisions  I  offered  in  Mush 
rooms.  If  homogeneity  of  some  sort  exists  in  the 
present  experiments,  possibly  it  runs  through  the  gen 
eral  undercurrent  which  carries  words,  silences  and 
pantomiming  along,  the  musician  s  term  for  which  is 
organ-point  I  duly  urge  my  apology  for  these  ejacu 
lations — especially  as  that  benign  entity,  contradiction 
between  an  author's  preface  and  production,  is  cer 
tain  to  come  between  us.  A.  K. 


CONTENTS 


WHEN  THE  WILLOW  NODS       .        .        .        .11 
(A  Dance-Play) 

JACK'S  HOUSE 29 

(A  Cubic-Play) 

LIMA   BEANS 43 

(A  Scherzo-Play) 

BLUE  AND  GREEN 61 

(A  Shadow-Play) 

MANIKIN  AND  MINIKIN 87 

(A  Bisque-Play) 

PEOPLE  WHO  DIE 105 

(A  Dream-Play) 


WHEN  THE  WILLOW  NODS 

(A  Dance-Play) 


WHEN  THE  WILLOW  NODS 
A  DANCE-PLAY 

(A  dense  wood  of  indiscriminate  trees  builds  a  care 
less  wall  around  a  willow  leaning  over  a  suggestion 
of  pond.  Sun  splotches  belie  the  illusion  that  the  time 
of  day  is  dusk.  An  old  figure,  seated  on  a  low  stone 
ledge.  His  attire  might  rouse  the  inference  that  he 
believes  simplicity  to  be  the  denouement  of  all  com 
plexities.  He  speaks  with  a  detached  air  in  a  rubato 
tempo,  like  one  who  improvises,  and  occasionally 
caresses  a  small  hidden  instrument  or  drum  with  ex 
quisite,  haphazard  rhythms.  Varying  intervals  of 
silence  break  his  speech.  A  girl  and  a  boy;  and  later, 
a  second  boy.  With  them  simplicity  is  doubtless  the 
beginning  of  all  things.  The  girl  and  boys  do  not 
speak,  but  act  the  improvisation  of  the  figure  in  a 
dance  or  pantomime  which  discloses  a  series  of  un 
conscious  poses,  naive,  awkward,  uncertain,  shy. 
They  appear  to  be  the  physical  embodiment  of  the 
thought-play  of  the  figure.  He  is  unseen  by  them,  but 
it  is  evident  that  they  can  hear  him,  most  of  the  time, 
separately.  It  is  questionable  whether  the  figure  can 
see  them.  At  the  rise  of  the  curtain,  the  figure  is 
alone,  and  begins:) 

11 


PLAYS  FOR  POEM-MIMES 

Only  when  the  willow  nods 

does  the  water  nod ; 

only  when  the  wind  nods 

does  the  willow  nod; 

only  when  a  cloud  nods 

does  the  wind  nod; 

and,  of  course,  nod 

rhymes  with  God.  .    .    . 

(The  girl  wanders  in;  looks  up  at  the  willow;  ap 
proaches  the  water;  kneels.) 

Better 

that  you  look 

lovely 

than  that  you  are 

lovely — 

yes, 

oh  yes, 

touch  your  blouse,  touch  your  hair, 

when  he  comes, 

touch  your  cheeks 

with  the  pink  that  flies; 

but  his  glance 

will  do  more 

for  your  look 

than  these.  .   .   . 

(Indefinite  poses  of  self -contemplation.     The  first 
boy  wanders  in,  left,  carrying  a  small  basket.) 

Your  least,  sly  look 

recreates  folk 

to  your  image. 

12 


WHEN  THE  WILLOW  NODS 

Not  that  they  know  what  your  image  is, 

nor  that  they  care — but — 

won't  you  look  at  him? 

He'd  like  to  look  like  you — 

then  you'll  love  him?  .   .   . 

(Rapture  holds  the  boy;  he  sets  the  basket  on  the 
ground.    The  girl  stiffens  into  another  pose.) 

She  has  made  cups 

of  her  hands. 

She  holds  them, 

palms  waiting, 

under  her  breasts. 

If  you  look  still  higher 

you  may  see 

three  more  cups — 

her  mouth, 

her  eyes. 

And  there  is  a  cup 

you  cannot  see. 

Brave  lad, 

can  you  resist  so  many?  .  .  . 

(The  boy's  ecstasy  crumbles  to  excitement,  as  the 
girl  looks  at  him  vaguely.) 

What  can  you — 

what  should  you — 

what  shall  you  say — 

so — 

so  only — 

so  only  she'll — 

what  can  you — 

13 


PLAYS  FOR  POEM-MIMES 

what  should  you — 
what  shall  you  swear? 
Could  I 

let  you  give  her — 
the   earth, 
or  a  tree — 
lend  you 
something 
more  than  you, 
more  than  me — 
how  can  you — 
how  should  you — 
how  else  could  you 
make  her — 
urge  her  to — 
have  her  say, 
whisper, 
breathe — 
breathe  she- 
breathe  that  she — 
what  can  you — 
what  should  you — 
what  shall  you  do? 
You  might — 
jump — 
jump  off— 

and  never  come  back! 
And  she — 
she  only — 
she  only  say — 

14 


WHEN  THE  WILLOW  NODS 
no!  .   .   . 

(The  girl  looks  at  the  boy  clearly.  She  moves  from 
the  water.  He  follows.  She  stops  beyond  the  willow. 
He  hesitates.) 

Do  you  feel  him 

a  thing  of  silk — 

now  you  can  hear  him? 

Must  you  be  always 

tearing  his  flesh — 

with  your  eyes,  and  your  silence? 

Put  a  quick  finger 

on  one  of  his  pores — 

touch  it  at  least — 

or  he  will  fall, 

bloodless, 

at  your  feet — 

and  leave  you  nobody. 

You  wouldn't  enjoy 

turning  ghoul? 

Faun  girl, 

you  are  beautiful — 

be  kind 

to  yourself.  .    .   . 

(The  girl  starts  towards  the  boy;  permits  him  grad 
ually  and  gently  to  caress  her.) 
Place  your  cool  mouth 
to  his. 

Press  hard  and  long. 
There  will  come  opening 
.*  15 


PLAYS  FOR  POEM-MIMES 

and  things 

which  have  never  sung  before. 

Things  even  you 

will  never  understand.     Nor  he. 

Turn  your  large  eyes 

to  his. 

Enter. 

You  will   see 

what  you  heard — 

and  the  mystery  grow. 

At  the  last, 

bring  your  curious  touch 

to  his. 

Hands 

move  to  the  breeze.  .   .  . 

(Frightened,  the  girl  draws  away;  she  suddenly  dis 
appears.    Awed,  the  boy  cannot  follow  her.} 

She  loves  you? 

And  who  are  you — 

who  are  you  that  she  should? 

Don't  ask  me  that — 

ask  tiny  questions. 

She  of  the  yellow  hair, 

she  of  the  cool  green  eyes, 

she  of  the  queer  red  mouth — 

I   know  whom  you   mean. 

Come,  lad. 

Tell  me  more  about  her. 

Don't  be  afraid. 

She  loves  you? 

16 


WHEN  THE  WILLOW  NODS 

So  you  said   .    .    . 
Let's  sit  on  the  grass. 
It  gives  so  pleasantly. 
Now  we  can  talk. 
She  loves  you? 

But  let's  talk,  talk  about  her! 
You  can't? 
Neither  can  I   ... 
Away, 

away  from  this  place — 
there's  a  pond  past  these  trees — 
let's  steal  to  a  boat, 
a  long  eerie  boat, 
and  drift  to  the  water  lilies — 
pink,  blue  or  white, 
lilies  are  quiet  thoughts. 
We  won't  break  them  for  her. 
We  don't  have  to   ... 
Eh? 

She  loves  you? 
Poor  boy, 

are  you  so  happy  you're  sad? 
That's  right, 
shut  your  eyes. 
Wake  you 

when  we  reach  the  lilies? 
I'll  try, 
I'll  try.  .    .    . 
(The  boy  is  gone.) 
She  loves  you. 

17 


PLAYS  FOR  POEM-MIMES 

I  can  assure  you  now  you're  asleep. 
Dream,  boy, 
lilies  will  wake  you, 
pink,  blue  or  white. 
No  matter  the  color, 
no  harm  can  come. 
She  loves  you.  .   .   . 
(Interlude.    The  figure,  reflectively:) 
Trees,  too, 
are  innocent  entities. 
Sap   sings  through  them 
in  time  with  the  weather. 
One  can  see 

they  care  little  about  their  fellows, 
though  they  do  have  a  way 
of  waving  branches  to  each  other. 
For  themselves, 
they  have  a  way 
of  nodding  pleasantly. 
Also  of  trying  on  dresses 
near  a  rain  glass  or  a  snow  glass. 
Also  of  staying  where  they  happen  to  be.  .    . 
There  are  folk  who  doubt 
whether  they  care  at  all. 
It  would  be  mean  though 
to  censure 

trees — they're  trees.  .   .   . 

(The  lovers  come  running  upon  the  scene,  he  chas 
ing  her.    He  throws  his  basket  aside;  buttercups  fall 

out.) 

18 


WHEN  THE  WILLOW  NODS 

What  animals  you  are 

or  whether  you  are 

animals,  I 

am  too  dumb  to  tell. 

Some  moments, 

I  feel  you've  come  out  of  the  earth, 

out  of  some  cool  white  stone 

deep  down  in  the  earth; 

or  there  brushes  past 

and  lurks  in  a  corner 

the  thought 

that  you  slipped  from  a  tree 

when  the  earth  stopped  spinning, 

that  a  blue  shell  brought  you 

when  the  sea  tired  waltzing. 

You  might  be  two  mice, 

the  dryads  of  woodpeckers, 

or  a  pure  tiny  fish  dream  ; 

you  might  be  something  dropped  from  the  sky ; 

not  god-children — 

I  wouldn't  have  you  that — 

nor  clouds — 

though  I  love  clouds. 

You're  something  not  birds, 

I  can  tell. 

If  I  could  find  you  somewhere 

outside 

of  me,  I  might  tell — 

but  inside?  .    .    . 

19 


PLAYS  FOR  POEM-MIMES 

(The  boy  catches  the  girl;  she  no  longer  resists; 
he  kisses  her.) 

Said  the  Mother: 

She  is  lovely. 

Her  mouth  is  red. 

Give  her  a  kiss. 

She  wants  it.   ... 

And  when  you  are  through? 

Give  her  another! 

But  you  don't  understand? 

Why  should  you? 

(Exhausted,  the  girl  drazvs  away.-  The  boy  reluc 
tantly  builds  her  a  throne  of  fallen  leaves.  She  sits 
down;  he  hands  her  the  buttercups,  a  few  at  a  time, 
and  some  colored  scarfs.) 

Do  not  make  her 

so  happy 

that  when  the  time  comes 

to  make  her  unhappy 

she  will  be 

so  unhappy 

she  will  die,  lad. 

Can't  you  be  cross  with  her? 

Can't  you   fail  to 

bring  her  those 

buttercups  ? 

Can't  you 

twang  somewhere  else 

now  and  then? 

She'll  love  you  the  more? 
20 


WHEN  THE  WILLOW  NODS 

Then  hers  is  the  crime  if  she  dies ! 

It  isn't? 

Whose  is  it? 

Better  make  her  unhappy  at  once ! 

You  can't?     Well— 

I  don't  know  what  you  should  do.  .  .  . 
(The  girl,  possibly  sated  with  attention,  stretches 
out  on  the  leaves.  The  boy  watches  her;  comes 
closer;  seems  doubtful;  and  stops.  Then  he  sits  down 
near  her.  Something  holds  him  still;  something  else 
draws  him  still  closer.) 

She  wears  no  scarf 

over  her  hair, 

no  mask 

over  her  eyes, 

over  her  mouth. 

Nor  do  you  ask  her  to: 

thus,  you  love  her. 

Nor  do  you  see 

veils 

round  her  breasts, 

veils 

down  her  limbs. 

Ask  you  to? 

I  speak  to  a  stone. 

You  love  her,  thus.  .    .   . 

(The  girl  is  startled.  The  boy  touches  her.  She 
looks  at  him,  rouses  herself,  gets  up.  He  turns  aside. 
She  moves  away.  He  does  not  follow  her.) 

If  he  were  sober 

21 


PLAYS  FOR  POEM-MIMES 

he  would  love  you 

as  you  wish  to  be  loved 

and  as  he  would  love  you 

if  his  muddled  thought  of  you 

were  clear  of  desire. 

It  is  sad  that  one  so  young 

should  be  drunken  so  soon, 

but  had  you  not  answered  him, 

had  you  not  answered  him  .    .    . 

I  know, 

I  know 

it  wasn't  your  fault.  .    .    . 
(Slowly,  the  lovers  depart  in  opposite  directions.) 

May  the  sun 

blink  open  your  eyes 

and  find  the  room  within 

all  blue, 

and  that  tiny 

broken  relic 

of  the  night's  unhappiness 

vanish  like  a  moth. 

You  will  see, 

no  bird 

can  fly 

more  swiftly  away.   .    .    . 
(Interlude.     The  figure,  reflectively:) 

.    .    .  again, 

under  the  spell 

of  these  warm-scented  troubadour  winds 

brushing  winter's  convent 
22 


WHEN  THE  WILLOW  NODS 

with  insinuating  madrigals, 
those  novices, 
the  trees, 

clicking  their  crooked  black  needles, 
are  knitting  lace — 
is  it  yellow,  is  it  green? — 
timid  in  pattern, 
as  clouds  are, 

what  with  their  dropping  of  stitches. 
.   .   .  later, 
grown  almost  heretic 
through  warmth  of  their  own, 
or  under  the  foolish  persuasion 
that  beauty  can  add  to  beauty — 
and  hold  beauty — 
one  or  two 
will  work  in 
patches  of  flowers. 
.   .   .  once  again,  the  troubadours — 
some  sated,  some  broken-hearted — 
will  slip  away 

and  the  convent  be  as  before. 
.    .    .  maybe 
the  Mother  Superior 
frowns  them  off?  .    .    . 

(The  boy  enters  dejectedly.     His  movements  are 
indeterminate,  but  he  stops  near  the  willow.) 
You  are  so  straight  and  still. 
What  does  it  mean? 
Are  you  concerned 
23 


PLAYS  FOR  POEM-MIMES 

in  the  tops  of  you  now 

with  sky  matters 

and  winter  butterflies? 

Do  not  the  leaves  you  colored 

trouble  you  longer? 

Try  and  recall ! 

Try  and  recall: 

Over  this  path 

she  used  to  tread  her  way, 

over  there 

he  used  to  throne  them  for  her: 

green,  brown,  red,  yellow! 

Did  you  look  at  me? 

Did  you  say  something?  .    .    . 
(The  boy  departs.  .   .   .    The  girl  enters  dejectedly. 
She   sits   down   near   the   scattered   remains   of   the 
throne.} 

Girl: 

Is  the  sap  in  you  tired 

that  you  no  longer  resist  the  wind? 

Did  you  feel  the  rain, 

the  rain  that  was  here  in  the  night? 

You  aren't  old — 

what  then  ? 

Another  rain  may  be  lighter? 

Even  if  it  isn't — 

no?  .    .    . 
(After  a  silence,  the  figure:) 

She  loved  her  love  for  him. 

But  ask  her  how  it  died, 
24 


WHEN  THE  WILLOW  NODS 

she  will  cry, 

his  faults  came  and  stabbed  it. 

Over  the  tomb  she  has  scrolled, 

'My  love  for  him  is  dead, 

but  my  love  lives  on/ 

And  her  love 

carries  white  flowers 

to  what  was  her  love  for  him.  .   .    . 
(The  second  boy  enters.    He  looks  at  the  girl.    But 
as    the    figure    continues,    the    boy    passes    aimlessly 
through.) 

Beware,  lad. 

There's  a  lane  of  cherry  trees 

on  the  turn  from  his  grave. 

Don't  look  at  her, 

or  you'll  be  plucking  blossoms 

in  blossom  time, 

blossoms  being  pink, 

or  cherries  in  cherry  time, 

cherries  being  red, 

and  seeing  they're  a  pretty 

variation  from  the  white, 

her  love  will  carry  them 

to  what  was  her  love  for  him.  .    .    . 
(The  girl  has  not  seen  the  second  boy.    She  leaves 
the  wood.    After  a  silence,  the  figure:) 

Only  when  the  willow  nods 

does  the  water  nod; 

only  when  the  wind  nods 

does  the  willow  nod; 
25 


PLAYS  FOR  POEM-MIMES 

only  when  a  cloud  nods 
does  the  wind  nod; 
and,  of  course,  nod 
rhymes  with  God.   .    .    . 
(Slow  curtain.) 


26 


JACK'S  HOUSE 

(A  Cubic-Play) 


JACK'S  HOUSE 
A  CUBIC-PLAY 

/ 
(Before  the  rise  of  the  curtain,  a  fantastic  cartoon 

in  a  design  of  squares,  triangles,  rhomboids,  etc.,  Jack 
is  singing  lustily:) 

I-re-mi-fa-sol-fa-mi- 

love-her-mi-  f  a-sol-la-sol-  f  a- 

and-she-sol-la-ci-do-ci-la- 

loves-ci-do-ci-la-sol-fa-mi- 

loves-me-re-mi-re-do- 

And-we-re-mi-fa-sol-fa-mi- 

love-us-re-mi-fa-mi-we-do. 

(After  a  short  silence,  the  curtain  rises — disclosing 
one  small  room.  It  contains  one  table,  one  chair,  one 
couch,  one  cooking  stove,  on  which  one  kettle  is  boil 
ing — all  of  them  small,  except  the  chair.  It  has  one 
bare  window,  one  door — both  small.  Also  one  broom 
— which  is  large.  Jack  is  sitting  behind  the  table. 
Large  square-rimmed  spectacles  rest  on  the  tip  of  his 
nose  as  he  studies  a  page  of  a  ponderous  volume 
across  which  may  be  read  the  words,  HOUSEHOLD 
ACCOUNTS.  Throughout  the  play,  Jack's  Wife  does 
not  speak;  the  character  of  her  dialogue  is  suggested 
by  her  pantomime.  Jack  addresses  practically  the 

29 


PLAYS  FOR  POEM-MIMES 

whole  of  his  speech  to  the  audience.  His  gesticula 
tion  is  geometrical.  As  the  play  progresses,  his  Wife 
begins  unconsciously  to  imitate  him.) 

Two  and  two  are  four, 

four  and  six  are  ten, 

ten  and  two  are  twelve, 

twelve  and  nine  are  twenty-one — 

twenty-one — 

Wife  is  only  twenty — 

twenty-one — 

twenty-one  and  seven — 

oh  how  I  hope — 

twenty-one  and  seven — 

twenty-nine — 

oh  how  I  hope — 

carry  two — 

I  hope  she'll  do  the  housework  soon. 

Two  and  three  are  five, 

five  and  four  are  nine — 

mending  cushions — 

nine  and  one — 

curtains — I  wonder  will  she — 

nine  and  one — 

meals — I  wonder  will — 

and  one  is  ten  and  two  is  twelve  and  nine — 

house  without  housework  is  no  house  at  all — 

twenty-one  again — 

carry  two. 

Two  and  four  is — 

(Jack  is  interrupted  by  the  sound  of  a  step.     He 
30 


JACK'S  HOUSE 

shuts  the  book,  quickly  puts  it  away  in  the  drawer  of 
the  table,  hurries  to  the  kettle  and  begins  to  stir  its 
contents  with  a  large  wooden  spoon.  Jack's  Wife 
enters.  Adorable — might  describe  her.  Dainty  panto 
mime  of  greetings.  Jack  is  most  solicitous  in  aiding 
her  with  the  removal  of  her  hat.  Presently,  he  leads 
her  to  two  unfinished  cushions  which  lie  on  the  couch, 
and  indicates  that  she  should  busy  herself  with  them. 
She  stubbornly  shakes  her  head.  He  indicates  some 
yellow  curtains — likewise  on  the  couch.  She  is  still 
more  stubborn.  He  indicates  the  wooden  spoon,  and 
stirs  the  contents  of  the  kettle  with  truly  magic  per 
suasiveness.  She  turns  her  back  on  him.  He  leads 
her  gently  to  the  table,  opens  the  drawer  and  indulges 
a  pantomime  of  setting  the  table.  She  refuses  the 
invitation.  Jack  seems  in  despair,  but  a  sign  of  extra 
ordinary  good  cheer  not  unmixed  with  whimsic 
shrewdness,  breaks  his  mood.  He  takes  his  Wife's 
hands,  and  intones:) 

Love,  Hebe,  amore,  amour 

was  a  dear  little  word 

for  to  win  a  lady, 

love,  Hebe,  amore,  amour 

was  a  dear  little  word 

for  to  win  a  lord. 

Now  take  her  hand, 

and  you  take  his, 

and  move  about  in  a  quaint  little  rhomboid, 

or  move  about  in  a  square  or  circle — 

a  square  or  circle  is  pretty,  my  dears ! 
31 


PLAYS  FOR  POEM-MIMES 

Shall  it  be  a  valse, 

or  shall  it  be  a  saraband? 

Why  not  try  a  minuet, 

gigue  or  polonaise? 

Don't  you  mind  false  steps, 

or  who  plays,  accompaniment — 

the  dear  little  tune  is  ever  the  same: 

Love,  liebe,  amore,  amour 

is  a  dear  little  word 

for  to  hold  a  lady, 

love,  liebe,  amore,  amour 

is  a  dear  little  word 

for  to  hold  a  lord. 

(Before  the  close  of  the  dance,  it  becomes  evident 
that  Jack's  Wife  is  more  responsive  to  his  suggestions. 
He  leads  her  back  to  the  table;  this  time  he  takes  vari 
ous  imaginary  articles,  carefully,  one  by  one,  from  the 
drawer.  Reluctantly,  only,  does  she  place  them  as  he 
indicates.  It  is  easy  to  intimate  that  if  the  articles 
were  real,  instead  of  imaginary,  she  would  have  de 
nied  her  share  in  the  performance.) 

We  have  no  dishes    - 

to  eat  our  meals  from. 

We  have  no  dishes 

to  eat  our  meals  from 

because  we  have  no  dishes 

to  eat  our  meals  from. 

We  have  no  dishes 

to  eat  our  meals  from 

because  we  can  afford  no 
32 


JACK'S  HOUSE 

dishes  to  eat  our  meals  from. 

When  we  can  afford 

dishes  to  eat  our  meals  from 

we  will  have  dishes 

to  eat  our  meals  from. 

We  need  no  dishes 

to  eat  our  meals  from, 

we  have  fingers 

to  eat  our  meals  from. 

(Jack  challenges  the  audience  with  a  vehement  nod. 
His  Wife  does  the  same  with  a  nod  less  vehement. 
He  places  the  chair  ceremoniously  for  her  to  sit  on, 
and  returns  to  the  kettle.  Presently  he  brings  the 
imaginary  repast,  sets  it  on  the  table,  and  after  much 
lofty  manoeuvring  of  helpings,  sits  down  on  the  same 
chair,  as  his  Wife  makes  room  for  him  with  tender 
alacrity.  Imaginary  eating  follows.  Jack,  with  a  deal 
of  scorn:) 

We  have  a  one-room  home. 
You  have  a  two-room,  three-room,  four-room. 
We  have  a  one-room  home 
because  a  one-room  home  holds  all  we  have. 
We  have  a  one-room  home 
because  we  do  not  want 
a  two-room,  three-room,  four-room. 
If  we  had  a  two-room,  three-room,  four-room 
we  would  need  more  than  a  one-room  home. 
We  have  a  one-room  home. 
We  like  a  one-room  home. 
33 


PLAYS  FOR  POEM-MIMES 

(Apparently,  Jack's   Wife  acquiesces  in  this  pro 
nouncement.    But  as  Jack  rises  and  indicates  the  pres 
ence   of  the  nexi  household  problem,  she  rises  and 
backs  away  from  the  table.    He  illustrates  his  argu 
ment  by  going  from  table  to  kettle  and  back  again, 
carrying  the  imaginary  dishes — but  without  prevailing. 
He  turns  his  back  on  her.     Slowly,  laboriously,  he 
stirs  the  dishes  with  a  mop.    But  ever  so  gently,  ever 
so  impersonally  and  tactfully,  he  sings  to  himself:) 
I-re-mi-fa-sol-fa-mi- 
love-her-mi-  f  a-sol-la-sol-  f  a- 
and-she-sol-la-ci-do-ci-la — 

(  Unseen  by  Jack,  his  Wife  has  wandered  to  the  win 
dow.  Idly,  like  a  child,  and  nodding  in  tempo,  she 
traces  shapes  with  her  finger.  She  stops,  eyes  Jack, 
looks  down,  looks  itp,  and  then  moves  towards  the 
couch.  He  recommences,  as  though  unaware  of  a 
change:) 

I-re-mi-  fa-sol-  fa-mi- 
love-her-mi-fa-sol-la-sol-fa- 
and-she-sol-la-ci-do-ci-la — 

(His  Wife  falters,  and  then  sits  down.  She  begins, 
most  tentatively,  to  finger  one  of  the  cushions.) 

And-she-sol-la-ci-doci-la  ? 

(They  exchange  sidelong  glances.  Jack  smiles;  so 
does  his  Wife.  He  quickens  the  tempo  of  his  tune  and 
goes  to  the  drawer:} 

loves-ci-do-ci-la-sol-fa-mi  ? 

(He  sends  her  a  glance.  She  nods  and  he  pulls  open 
the  drawer  and  gets  her  work  basket:) 

34 


JACK'S  HOUSE 

loves-ci-do-ci-la-sol-fa-mi- 

loves-me-re-mi-re-do — 

(He  hands  her  the  basket  with  a  touch  of  legerde 
main  : ) 

loves-me-re-mi-re-do. 

And-we-re-mi-fa-sol-fa-mi- 

love-us-re-mi-fa-mi-we-do. 

(Jack  goes  back  to  the  kettle.  His  Wife  begins  to 
ivork  on  the  cushions.  He  has  to  send  her  occasional 
glances  of  encouragement.  Presently,  he  takes  the 
broom,  and,  with  what  looks  like  obliviousness,  sweeps 
with  such  vigorous  strokes  and  such  delicate  finesse 
that  a  little  pile  of  dust  is  gathered  and  deftly  urged 
into  a  corner.  With  much  twirling  of  the  broom,  and 
interruptions  by  way  of  bowing  to  the  audience,  ges 
ticulating  and  posturing,  he  has  been  offering  the  fol 
lowing,  at  the  conclusion  of  which  the  broom  is  put 
away  with  an  ecstatic  sigh.) 

She  has  two  green  pillows 

on  our  black  couch. 

They  should  be  cerulean  bolsters 

on  a  lemon  silk  divan 

and  you  would  not 

challenge  me  that 

she  has  two  green  pillows 

on  our  black  couch, 

and  I  would  not 

challenge  you  that  yours 

has  cerulean  bolsters 

on  your  lemon  silk  divan. 
35 


PLAYS  FOR  POEM-MIMES 

Have  cerulean  bolsters 
on  your  lemon  silk  divan 
and  let  us  have 
two  green  pillows 
on  our  black  couch. 

(His  Wife  seems  not  a  little  pleased  with  herself,  so 
much  so  that  when  Jack  sits  down  to  help  her  with 
advice,  she  nudges  him  away.  He  can  scarcely  con 
trol  his  joy.  To  hide  it,  he  concerns  himself  with 
imaginary  chores,  to  a  hummed  version  of  his  tune. 
Observing  that  his  Wife  has  laid  aside  the  cushions, 
he  slily  attempts  to  pick  up  the  curtains,  but  she 
snatches  them  away.  He  indulges  a  pantomime  of 
angry,  defeated  pride,  and  then  resorts  to  petting  the 
pillows.  His  Wife  does  not  object.  He  rocks  the 
pillows  in  his  arms,  and  attacks  the  audience  with  in 
sinuating  tenderness.) 

We  have  many,  many  children 

I  would  sing  you  of, 

but  you  would  not  call 

them  any,  any  children. 

And  what  is  it  to  you  how 

many,  many  children  we  have, 

so — why  should  I  sing  you  of 

any,  any  children  we  have? 

(Jack  lays  the  pillows  down.  His  Wife  begins  sew 
ing  on  the  curtains.  Tactfully,  he  renews  his  search 
for  imagined  chores.  She  motions  him  towards  the 
window,  and  suggests  washing  it.  Jack  is  so  surprised 

36 


JACK'S  HOUSE 

she  has  to  repeat  her  pointing  several  times.  He  nods 
in  approbation,  finds  the  mop  and  dips  it  in  the  kettle. 
The  water  is  hot,  assuredly.  However,  a  glance  of 
his,  followed  by  a  slow  look,  at  the  window,  holds  him 
back.  With  a  gesture  akin  to  reverence,  he  turns  from 
the  window,  and  comes  close  to  the  audience.  In 
strict,  prayerful  confidence,  to  which  his  Wife  listens, 
doubtfully,  and  then  slowly  bows  her  head,  and  sews.) 

Our  window  is  stained 

with  the  figures  she  has  blown  on  it. 

Our  window  is  stained 

with  the  figures  she  has  blown  on  it 

with  her  breath. 

Our  window  is  stained 

with  the  figures  she  has  blown  on  it 

with  her  breath 

on  which  a  spirit  has  blown — 

A  spirit?  a  saint?  a  sprite? 

who  was  it 

blew  figures  on  her  breath 

that   our   window   is   stained 

with  the  figures  she  has  blown  on  it? 
(Jack  goes  back  to  the  window,  but  he  exerts  extreme 
care  in  his  efforts  not  to  wipe  out  the  figures.  His 
Wife  has  finished  the  curtains;  she  steals  behind  him. 
Jack  stands  there  in  utter  contemplation,  but  as  she 
approaches,  comes  back  to  the  situation  and  tries  to 
anticipate  her  purpose  by  taking  the  curtains.  She 
bluntly  denies  him  any  part  in  the  hanging.  With 
mock  resignation  Jack  permits  himself  to  be  overruled. 

37 


PLAYS  FOR  POEM-MIMES 

But  while  his  Wife  hangs  the  curtains,  he  confides  his 
ecstasy  to  the  audience.) 

She  likes  to  make  shades, 

yellow  shades  for  the  window, 

but  if  you  ask  her  why 

she  likes  to  make  shades, 

yellow  shades   for  the  window, 

she  would  not  tell  you  why 

she  likes  to  make  shades, 

yellow  shades  for  the  window, 

except  that  she  likes  to. 

If  you  ask  me  why 

she  likes  to  make  shades, 

yellow  shades  for  the  window, 

I  could  tell  you  why, 

but  you  might  think  me  proud, 

so  I  will  not  tell  you  why 

she  likes  to  make  shades, 

yellow  shades  for  the  window. 
(His  Wife  has  finished  hanging  the  curtains.  She 
steals  behind  and  touches  him.  Jack  turns  and  lifts 
her  gently  off  the  floor,  for  a  mere  moment.  His 
happy  exhaustion  becomes  so  apparent  that  his  Wife 
has  to  lead  him  to  the  couch  and  deposit  him  there — 
almost  like  a  child.  He  does  not  resist.  She  snuggles 
down  beside  him.  Together,  they  look  about  the  room. 
Jack,  to  his  Wife:) 

This  room 

is  our  cradle. 

It  will  rock 

38 


JACK'S  HOUSE 

in  our  memory 
no  matter  what 
we  grow  to. 

(As  the  curtain  falls,  they  can  be  heard  humming 
the  strain  of  I-re-mi—fa-sol-fa-mi.) 


39 


LIMA  BEANS 

(A  Scherzo-Play) 


LIMA  BEANS 
A  SCHERZO-PLAY 

(The  characters  are  four:  husband,  wife,  the  voice  of 
a  huckster  and — the  curtain!  Husband  and  wife  might 
be  two  marionnettes.  The  scene  is  a  miniature  dining 
room  large  enough  to  contain  a  small  table,  two  chairs, 
a  liny  sideboard,  an  open  window,  a  closed  door  lead 
ing  to  the  other  rooms,  and  additional  elbow  space. 
Pantomime  is  modestly  indulged  by  husband  and  wife, 
suggesting  an  inoffensive  parody,  unless  the  author 
errs,  of  the  contours  of  certain  ancient  Burmese 
dances.  The  impedimenta  of  occasional  rhymes  are 
unpremeditated.  If  there  must  be  a  prelude  of  music, 
let  it  be  nothing  more  consequential  than  one  of  the  in 
nocuous  parlor  rondos  of  Carl  Maria  Von  Weber. 
As  a  background  color  scheme,  black  and  white  might 
not  prove  amiss. 

As  the  curtain,  which  is  painted  in  festoons  of  vege 
tables,  rises  gravely,  the  wife  is  disclosed  setting  the 
table  for  dinner.  Aided  by  the  sideboard,  she  has  at 
tended  to  her  place,  as  witness  the  neat  arrangement 
of  plate,  cup  and  saucer,  and  knife,  fork  and  spoons 
at  one  side.  Now,  more  consciously,  she  begins  the 
performance  of  the  important  duty  opposite.  This 
question  of  concrete  paraphernalia,  and  the  action  con 
sequent  thereupon,  might  of  course  be  left  entirely  to 
the  imagination  of  the  beholder.) 

43 


PLAYS  FOR  POEM-MIMES 

The  Wife  (wistfully  whimsical) — 
Put  a  knife  here, 
place  a   fork  there — 
marriage  is  greater  than  love. 
Give  him  a  large  spoon, 
give  him  a  small — 

•»—»  you're  sure  of  your  man  when  you  dine  him. 
A  cup  for  his  coffee, 
a  saucer  for  spillings, 
a  plate  rimmed  with  roses 
to  hold  his  night's  fillings — 
'  roses  for  hearts,  ah, 

but  food  for  the  appetite ! 
Mammals  are  happiest  home  after  dark ! 
(The  rite  over,  she  stands  off  in  critical  admira 
tion,  her  arms  akimbo,  her  head  bobbing  from  side 
to  side.     Then,  seriously,  as  she  eyes  the  husband's 
dinner  plate.) 

But  what  shall  I  give  him  to  eat  to-night? 
It  mustn't  be  limas, 
we've  always  had  limas — 
one  more  lima  would  shatter  his  love ! 
(An  answer  comes  through  the  open  window  from 
the  dulcet  insinuatingly  persuasive  horn  of  the  huck 
ster.) 

The  Wife— O\\,  ah,  ooh ! 
The  Huckster  (singing  mysteriously)— 
-I  got  tomatoes, 
I  got  potatoes, 
I  got  new  cabbage, 
44 


LIMA  BEANS 

I  got  caw/iflowcr, 

I  got  red  beets, 

I  got  onions, 

I  got  lima  beans — 

The   Wife   (who  has  stolen  to  the  window,  fasci 
nated) — Any  fruit? 
The  Huckster — 

I  got  orange.?, 

I  got  pineapples, 

blackberries, 

currants, 

blueberries, 

I  got  bananas, 

I  got— 

The  Wife — Bring  me  some  string  beans ! 
The  Huckster — Yes,  mam !     (His  head  bobs  in  at 
the  window.) 

The  Wife  (takes  some  coins  from  the  sideboard.  A 
paper  bag  is  flung  into  the  room.  The  wife  catches  it 
and  airily  tosses  the  coins  into  the  street.  Presently, 
she  takes  a  bowl  from  the  sideboard,  sits  down,  peeps 
into  the  bag,  dramatically  tears  it  open,  and  relapses 
into  a  gentle  rocking  as  she  strings  the  beans  to  this 
invocation)  — 

String  the  crooked  ones, 

string  the  straight — 

love  needs  a  change  every  meal. 

To-morrow,  come  kidney  beans, 

Wednesday,  come  white  or  black— 

limas,  return  not  too  soon! 
45 


PLAYS  FOR  POEM-MIMES 

The  string  bean  rules  in  the 

vegetable  kingdom, 

gives  far  more  calories,  sooner  digests — 
"love  through  with  dinner  is  quicker  to  play ! 

Straight  ones,  crooked  ones, 

string  beans  are  blessed! 

(Enter  the  husband  briskly.     In  consternation,  the 
wife  tries  to  hide  the  bowl,  but  sets  it  on  the  table  and 
hurries  to  greet  him.  He  spreads  his  hands  and  bows.) 
She — Good  evening,  sweet  husband  ! 
He — Good  evening,  sweet  wife! 
She — You're  back,  I'm  so  happy — 
He — So  am  I — 'twas  a  day — 
She — 'Twas  a  day? 
He — For  a  hot  sweating  donkey — 
She — A  donkey? 
He — A  mule ! 

She — My  poor,  dear,  poor  spouse — 
He — No,  no,  my  good  mouse — 
She — Rest  your  tired,  weary  arms — 
He — They're  not  tired,  I'm  not  weary — 

I'd  perspire  tears  and  blood  drops 

just  to  keep  my  mouse  in  cheese. 

In  a  town  or  in  the  fields, 

on  the  sea  or  in  a  balloon, 

with  a  pickaxe  or  a  fiddle, 

with  one's  back  a  crooked  wish-bone, 

occupation,  labor,  work — 

work's  a  man's  best  contribution. 
She — Contribution  ? 

46 


LIMA  BEANS 

He — Yes,  to  Hymen! 
She— Ah  yes— 
He — But  you  haven't — 
She— I  haven't? 
He — You  haven't — 
She— I  haven't? 
Pie — You  have  not — 
She — Ah  yes,  yes  indeed! 

(The  wife  embraces  the  husband  and  kisses  him 
daintily  six  times.) 

He — Stop,  queer  little  dear ! 
Why  is  a  kiss? 

She — I  don't  know. 

He— You  don't? 

She— No ! 

He — Then  why  do  you  do  it? 

She — Love ! 

He — Love  ? 

She— Yes ! 

He — And  why  is  love? 

She — I  don't  know. 

He— You  don't? 

She— No ! 

He — And  why  don't  you  know?' 

She — Because ! 

He — Because  ? 

She— Yes ! 

He — Come,  queer  little  dear ! 

(The  husband  embraces  the  wife  and  kisses  her 
daintily  six  times.) 

47 


PLAYS  FOR  POEM-MIMES 

He   (solemnly) — And  now! 

She  (nervously) — And  now? 

He — And  now  ! 

She — And  now? 

He — And  now  I  am  hungry. 

She — And  now  you  are  hungry? 

He — Of  course  I  am  hungry. 

She — To  be  sure  you  are  hungry,  but — 

He— But? 

She— But ! 

He— But? 

(The  wife  tries  to  edge  between  the  husband  and 
the  table.  He  gently  elbows  her  aside.  She  comes 
back;  he  elbows  her  less  gently.  This  pantomime  is 
repeated  several  times;  his  elbowing  is  almost  rough 
at  the  last.  The  husband  reaches  the  table  and  ogles 
the  bold.  His  head  twists  from  the  bowl  to  the  wife, 
back  and  forth.  An  ominous  silence.) 

He — String  beans? 

She — String  beans  ! 

He — String  beans? 

She — String  beans! 

(A  still  more  ominous  silence.  The  husband's  head 
begins  fairly  to  bob,  only  to  stop  abruptly  as  he  breaks 
forth)- 

He — I  perspire  tears  and  blood  drops 
in  a  town  or  in  the  fields, 
on  the  sea  or  in  a  balloon, 
with  my  pickaxe  or  my  fiddle, 
just  to  come  home 

48 


LIMA  BEANS 

footsore,  starving,  doubled  with  appetite 

to  a  meal  of — string  beans? 

Where  are  my  limas? 
She— We  had— 
He— We  had? 

She — Lima  beans  yesterday — we  had  them — 
He— We  had  them? 
She — Day  before  yesterday — 
He— What  of  it?' 
She — Last  Friday,  last  Thursday— 
He — I  know  it — 

She — Last  Wednesday,  last  Tuesday— 
He — What  then,  mam? 
She— We  had  them 

all  the  way  since  we  were  married — 
He — Two  weeks  ago  this  very  day — 
She — I  thought  you'd  have  to  have  a  change- 
He — A  change — 

She — I  thought  you'd  like  to  have  a  change — 
He — A  change? 

You  thought? 

I'd  like? 

A  change? 

What! 

From  the  godliest  of  vegetables, 

my  kingly  bean, 

that  soft,  soothing, 

succulent,  caressing, 

creamy,  persuasively  serene, 

my  buttery  entity? 
49 


PLAYS  FOR  POEM-MIMES 

You  would  dethrone  it? 

You  would  play  renegade? 

You'd  raise  an  usurper 

in  the  person  of  this 

elongated,  cadaverous, 

throat-scratching,  greenish 

caterpillar — 

you'd  honor  a  parochial, 

menial  pleb, 

an  accursed  legume, 

sans  even  the  petty  grandeur 

of  cauliflower, 

radish,  pea, 

onion,  asparagus, 

potato,  tomato — 

to  the  rank  of  household  god? 

Is  this  your  marriage? 

Is  this  your  creed  of  love? 

Is  this  your  contribution? 

Dear,  dear, 

was  there  some  witch  at  the  altar 

who  linked  your  hand  with  mine  in  troth 

only  to  have  it  broken  in  a  bowl  ? 

Ah,  dear,  dear — 
She — Dear,  dear! 

He — You  have  listened  to  a  temptress — 
She — I  have  listened  to  my  love  of  you — 
He — You,  the  pure,  the  angelic — 
She — Husband,  dear — 
He — Silence ! 

50 


LIMA  BEANS 

She— Husband ! 
He — Silence ! 

(The  wife  collapses  into  her  chair.     The  husband 
seizes  the  bowl  to  this  malediction) — 
Worms, 
snakes, 
reptiles, 
caterpillars, 

I  do  not  know  from  whence  ye  came, 
but  I  know  whither  ye  shall  go. 
My  love, 
my  troth, 
my  faith 

shall  deal  with  ye. 
Avaunt, 
vanish, 
begone 

from  this  domicile, 
dedicated, 
consecrated, 
immortalized 
in  the  name  of  Hymen ! 
Begone ! 

(The  husband  throws  the  bowl  and  beans  out  of 
the  window.     The  customary  crash  of  broken  glass, 
off-stage,  is  heard.    A  smothered  sob  escapes  the  wife. 
The   husband   strides   towards  the   door.     The   wife 
raises   her  head.) 
She — Husband ! 
He — Traitress! 

51 


PLAYS  FOR  POEM-MIMES 

She — Love,  sweet  husband! 
He — Traitress,  traitress ! 

( The  husband  glares  at  the  wife,  and  slams  the  door 
behind  him.  The  wife  collapses  again.  Her  body 
rocks  to  and  fro.  Silence.  Then,  still  more  myste 
riously  than  the  first  time,  the  horn  and  the  voice  of 
the  huckster.  The  wife  stops  rocking,  raises  her  head 
and  gets  up.  A  woe-begone  expression  vanishes  be 
fore  one  of  eagerness,  of  housewifely  shrewdness,  of 
joy.  She  steals  to  the  window.) 

The  Huckster — I  got  oranges, 

I  got  pineapples, 

I  got  blackberries, 

I  got  cwrrants, 

I  got  blueberries, 

I  got  ba.na.nas, 

Igot— 

The  Wife — Any  vegetables? 
The  Huckster — I  got  tomato^, 

I  got  potatoes, 

new  cabbage, 

cauliflower, 

red  beets, 

I  got  string  beans, 

Igot— 

The   Wife — Bring  me  some  lima  beans ! 
The  Huckster — I  got  onions, 

I  got— 

The  Wife — Bring  me  some  lima  beans ! 
52 


LIMA  BEANS 

The    Huckster — Yes,    mam !     (His    head    appears 
again. ) 

(The  performance  of  paper  bag  and  coins  is  re 
peated.    Excitedly,  the  wife  takes  another  bowl  from 
the  sideboard.     She  sits  down,   tears  open  the  bag, 
clicks  her  heels,  and  hastily,  recklessly,  begins  split 
ting  the  limas.     One  or  two  pop  out  and  bound  along 
the  floor.    The  wife  stops.    Pensively:} 
There  you  go, 
hopping  away, 
just  like  bad  sparrows — 
no,  no,  more  like  him. 
(She  smiles  a  little.) 
Hopping  away, 
no,  he's  not  a  sparrow, 
he's  more  like  a 
poor  angry  boy — and  so  soon! 
(She  lets  the  beans  slip  through  her  fingers.) 
Lima  beans,  string  beans, 
kidney  beans,  white  or  black — 
you're  all  alike — 
though  not  all  alike  to  him. 
(She  perks  her  head.) 
It's  alike  to  me 
what's  alike  to  him — 
(She  looks  out  of  the  window.) 
though  I'm  sorry  for  you, 
crooked  strings,  straight  strings, 
and  so  glad  for  you, 
creamy  ones,  succulent — 
53 


PLAYS  FOR  POEM-MIMES 

what  did  he  say  of  you? 

(She  returns  to  splitting  the  limas;  with  crescendo 
animation.) 

Heighho,   it's  all  one  to  me, 
so  he  loves  what  I  do, 
I'll  do  what  he  loves. 
Angry  boy?     No,   a  man 
quite  young  in  the  practise 
of  wedlock — and  love! 
Come,  limas,  to  work  now — 
we'll  serve  him,  heart,  appetite, 
whims,  crosspatches  and  all — 
though  we  boil  for  it  later! 
The  dinner  bell  calls  us, 
ding,  dong,  ding,  dell! 

(The  husband  opens  the  door  and  pokes  in  his  head. 
The  wife  hears  him  and  is  silent.  He  edges  into  the 
room  and  then  stops,  humble,  contrite,  abject.  Almost 
in  a  whisper) — 

Wife! 
(She  does  not  heed  him.    He,  louder) — 

Sweet  wife! 

(She  does  not  answer.    He,  still  louder) — 
Beloved, 

dear,  dearest  wife! 

(She  does  not  answer.     He  approaches  carefully, 
almost  with  reverence,  watches  her,  takes  the  other 
chair  and  cautiously  sets  it  down  next  to  hers.) 
He—Wife! 
She— Yes? 

54 


LIMA  BEANS 

He— Will  you— 
I  want  to — 
won't  you — 

may  I   sit  next  to  you? 
She—Yes. 
He — I  want  to — 
will  you — 
won't  you 
forgive  me — I'll 
eat  all  the  beans  in  the  world! 
(The  wife  looks  up  at  the  husband  roguishly.    He 
drops  down  beside  her  with  the  evident  intention  of 
putting  his  arm  about  her,  only  to  jump  up  as,  inad 
vertently,  he  has  looked  into  the  bowl.    He  rubs  his 
eyes,  sits  down  slowly,  looks  again,  only  to  jump  up 
again.     The  third  time  he  sits  down  with  extreme 
caution,  like  a  zoologist  who  has  come  upon  a  new 
specimen  of  insect.    The  wife  seems  oblivious  of  his 
emotion.    He  rises,  looks  from  one  side  of  her,  then 
the  other,  warily.    At  last,  rapturously.) 
He — Lima  beans? 

(She  looks  up  tenderly  and  invitingly,  indicating  his 
chair.) 

She — Lima  beans! 

(He  sits  down  beside  her.     With  greater  awe  and 
emphasis.) 

He — Lima  beans? 

She — Lima  beans ! 

(A  moment  of  elfin  silence.) 

He — Sweet  wife! 

55 


PLAYS  FOR  POEM-MIMES 


She- — Sweet  husband  ! 
lie-  -Where— 
whence — 
how  did  it — 
how  did  it  happen? 
SJic — I  don't  know. 
//  •— You  do— 

you  do  know — 
She- -I  don't! 
He — Tiny  miracle, 
you  do — 
you're  a  woman, 
•  ou're  a  wife, 
you're  an  imp — 
you  do  know ! 
She—Wdl— 
He— Well  ? 
She — Er — 
He— Eh? 
She — Somebody — 
He — Yes,  yes? 
SJi  c — Somebody — 

sent  them — 
He— Sent  them? 
She — Brought  them  ! 
He — Brought  them  ? 
She— Yes ! 
7/<?--Who? 
She — Somebody ! 
He — Somebody  who? 

56 


LIMA  BEANS 

She— I  can't  tell— 

He — You  can. 

She— I— won't  tell— 

He— You  will— 

She — I  won't — 

He — You  will— 

She—Wt\} ! 

He— Well  ? 

She — You  ought  to  know ! 

He— I  ought  to? 

She — You  ought  to — 

He— But  I  don't— 

She — Yes,  you  do! 

He — I  do  not — 

She — You  do! 

(The  husband  eyes  the  wife  thoughtfully.  She 
aids  him  with  a  gently  mischievous  smile.  He  smiles 
back  in  understanding.) 

He — I  know  ! 

She- — You  do  not — 

He— Yes,   I   do! 

She — Are  you  sure? 

He — Sure  enough — 

She — Who  was  it? 

He — I  won't  tell— 

She— You  will! 

(He  points  at  the  audience  with  warning,  goes  to 
the  keyhole  and  listens,  draws  the  window-shade  and 
returns.  She  nods  quickly  and  puts  her  head  closer 
to  his,  her  ivide-open  eyes  on  the  audience.  He  puts 

57 


PLAYS  FOR  POEM-MIMES 

his  head  to  hers,  his  wide-open  eyes  on  the  audience, 
then  turns  quickly  and  whispers  something  in  her  ear. 
She  nods  with  secret,  uproarious  delight.) 

She— Yes ! 

He— Yes? 

She—Yes\ 

(They  embrace  and  click  their  heels  with  unre- 
straind  enthusiasm.  The  wife  holds  out  the  bowl  to 
the  husband  with  mock  solemnity.  He  grasps  it  and 
together  they  raise  it  above  their  heads,  lower  it  to 
their  knees,  and  then  shell  the  beans  with  one  accord. 
They  kiss  each  other  daintily  six  times.  The  curtain 
begins  to  quiver.  As  before,  but  accelerando.) 

He — Stop,  queer  little  dear! 
Why  is  a  kiss? 

She — I  don't  know. 

He— You  don't? 

She— No ! 

He — Then  why  do  you  do  it? 

She — Love ! 

He — Love  ? 

She— Yes ! 

He — And  why  is — 

(They  are  interrupted.  The  curtain  comes  capering 
down!  The  last  we  behold  of  the  happy  pair  is  their 
frantic  signaling  for  the  curtain  to  wait  till  they  have 
finished.  But  curtains  cannot  see — or  understand?) 


58 


BLUE  AND  GREEN 

(A  Shadow-Play) 


BLUE  AND  GREEN 
A  SHADOW-PLAY 


(Three  different  miniature  scenes  which,  for  con 
venience,  might  be  understood  as  Scene  I,  Scene  II, 
Scene  III.  In  Scene  I,  the  predominant  note  is  a  small 
group  of  live  oaks;  in  Scene  II,  cedars,  one  of  which 
is  taller  than  the  rest,  in  an  environment  of  yellow 
desert  and  sage  brush;  Scene  III,  a  single,  tall  euca 
lyptus  in  red-blossom  time.  A  hint  of  blue  sea  is  the 
background;  the  locality,  California.  The  action 
takes  place  with  the  three  scenes  constantly  in  view. 
They  are  separated  from  one  another  by  mist-like 
curtains  or  partitions.  ) 

(A  young  man  is  hurriedly  looking  about  among 
the  live  oaks.  Their  low  gnarled  stature  and  twisted 
arms  throw  weird  shadows  about  him.  He  stops  and 
speaks  breathlessly)— 

She  blew  two  kisses — 

down  an  air  current — 

and  I  at  the  other  end — 

it   felt  like  the 

roar,  darkness  and  mad  rocks 

of  an  iniquitous  cave ! 

But  this  is  no  cave? 

Two  kisses? 

61 


PLAYS  FOR  POEM-MIMES 

Why,  there  were  eight  of  them, 

each  the  more  insidious 

for  the  silence  of  them, 

eight  thistle-down  ubiquities 

avalanched   by   the   eight   fingers   of   her   two 

hands — 
there  would  have  been  ten  had  she  thought  of 

her  thumbs ! 

Woman  never  expresses  herself 
unless  man  has  brought  the  occasion, 
and   then   only,   only   when 
a  period  has  elapsed 
sufficient  to  provide  her 
with  some  indubitable  credential 
of  the  character  of  his  intention ! 
Immortal  controversy — 
why,  the  character  of  mine 
has  been  chasing  her  for  days, 
clutching  at  her  like  a  tree, 
shouting  imprecation! 
But  at  that  egregious  moment — 
I    said   nothing,    asked   nothing,    did    nothing, 

when — 

quicker  than  a  breeze  or  a  rain  drop — 
two  kisses,  eight  kisses,  ten? 
Can  it  be  she  loves  me  at  last? 
There  you  are! 

(A  young  woman  has  appeared  under  one  of  the 
oaks.    She  eyes  him;  he  eyes  her.     They  parley.) 
He — You  blew   two   kisses — 
62 


BLUE  AND  GREEN 

She— I  did  not— 

He — Eight  kisses — 
She — I  did  not — 
He — There  would  have  been  ten — 
She — There  would  not — 
He — You  love  me — 
She — I  do  not! 
He — At  any  rate — 
She — At  any  rate? 
He — Come  and  sit  down. 
She — I've  sat  down  before. 
He — Let  us  weigh  the  question. 
She — We've  weighed  it  before. 
He — Let  us  premise  a  new  discussion — 
She — Old  discussion — 

He — With  the  assumption  you  don't  love  me. 
She — The  assumption? 
He — The  admission! 

(She  approaches  warily.  He  arranges  a  place  on  the 
ground  for  her.  He  sits  down  a  fair  distance  away.) 
He— Higgle- 
She — Haggle — 
He — Haggle — 
She — Higgle — 
He — I  know 

my  craziness  about  you 

is  compounded  of  some 

fifty  percent 

craziness  about  me, 

but  if  you 

63 


PLAYS  FOR  POEM-MIMES 

will  chip  from  your 
hundred  percent  (if  it's  that) 
craziness  about  you 
five  or  ten  percent  for  a 
craziness  about  me, 
I  feel  mayhap 

we'd  compound  a  single  craziness 
so  marvelously  sane 
the  very  fish  wives  would  covet  it ! 
Let  the  males  of  the  market 
flout  it,  barter 
of  a  bag  of  stale  flounders 
for  a  luscious  fresh  vegetable, 
or  shriek :  he's  passed  a  counterfeit ! 
I'll  even  take  in  exchange 
a  Chinese  coin 
ninety-nine  percent  hole 
and  leave  it  at  our  demise 
to  dance  along  the  silver-wire 
memory  of  immortal  bits ! 
She — And  your  counterfeit? 
He — My  your-me? 
I'm  sorry 
I  can't 

weigh   that — 
will  you  ? 
She  (mischievously) — 

Higgle— 
He  (in  disgust)  — 
Haggle — 

64 


BLUE  AND  GREEN 


She — Haggle 

He — Damn ! 

(He  has  moved  closer  to  her,  but  turns  away.  She 
touches  him.  He  looks  at  her.  They  embrace  tender 
ly.  Pause.  They  release  each  other.  He  looks  down.) 

She — You  love  me? 

He— Verily. 

You  love  me  ? 

She — Indeed ! 

He — How  you  starved  me — 

She — I  did  not— 

I  blew  you  two  kisses  ? 

He — Eight    kisses  ! 

She — Ten  thousand  ! 

He — With  your  thumbs? 

She — With  my  thought! 

He — Blessed  fish-wife  ! 

She — Not   fish-wife! 

He — I  mean  tree-troll ! 

She — Nor   tree-troll! 

He — Woman ! 

(The  scenes  darken  gradually.  She  nestles  against 
his  shoulder.  Suddenly,  she  indicates  the  live  oaks. 
He  follows  her  gesture  doubtfully.) 

She — I'm  afraid. 

He— Afraid? 

Afraid  of  the  trees? 

She — Not  of  the  trees ! 

He — Afraid  of  me? 

She — Nor  of  you! 

65 


PLAYS  FOR  POEM-MIMES 

He—Oi    what? 

She—Oi  love! 

He— Of  love? 

She— Not  of  love! 

He — Not  of  love? 

She — Of  everything — 

He — Everything  ? 

She — Everything   which   isn't  love! 

He — I  don't  understand? 

She  (dreamily) — 

I  once  saw  two  bubbles  on  a  pond. 

They  eyed  the  sun  a  little  while, 

so  contentedly, 

then  blinked  one  blink  and  were  as  nothing. 

They  died,  didn't  they? 
He — Doubtless  they  did — 
She — Then  I  saw  two  gnats. 

They  sped  back  and  forth  across  the  pond, 

so  contentedly, 

and  then  disappeared, 

one  behind  a  rock,  the  other  down  below, 

and  were  as  nothing. 

They  parted,   didn't  they? 
He — Doubtless  they  did— 
She — I  sat  there  with  the  past,  present  and  futu: 

I  thought  of  nothing. 

But  there  was  something  in  me, 

a  faint,  wavering  desire 

for  something  beyond  me 

and  that  past,  present  and  future — 
66 


BLUE  AND  GREEN 

He— Here  I  am! 
She — I  know,  but — 
He— But? 

She— Will  we  be  like  the  bubbles  ? 
He— No ! 

She — Will  we  be  like  the  gnats? 
He— No,  no ! 
She — If  we  are  the  bubbles, 

at  least  we  would  die — 

but  if  we  are  the  gnats! 
He — But  we're  going  to  live! 
She — Live,  yes,  but— 
He — But  again? 

She — There's  a  living  which  is  dying. 
He — The  everything  which  isn't  love  ? 
She— Yes ! 

He — The  everything  in  us  which  isn't? 
She — Yes,  yes  ! 

He — But  is  there  such  a  thing  in  us? 
She — My  love  ! 
He— Your  love? 
She — And  your  love ! 
He — My  love? 
She — I  love  the  me  in  you — 

and  you  the  you  in  me ! 
He — Is  that  what  love  is? 
She —  Can't  it  be  something  beyond — 

more  than  the  me — 

more  than  the  me  we  crave — 

tell  me  what  love  is ! 
67 


PLAYS  FOR  POEM-MIMES 

(He  draws  her  still  closer  and  shakes  his  head.    A 

gentle  silence.) 
She  (almost  in  a  sing  song) — 

If  you'll  tell  me  what  love  is, 

how  little  of  it  is  love, 

how  much  of  it  everything  else, 

how  little  of  it  feeling  for  you, 

how  much  of  it  cat-like  selfishness, 

how  much  of  it  lust  of  power, 

luring  the  other  into  your  hands 

to  re-model  after  your  own  image, 

only  to  find  the  image  mean, 

commonplace,  bitterly  familiar, 

a  sight  to  efface  with  the  first  recognition — 
He  (in  imitation) — 

How  much  of  it 

is  re-modelling  yourself  to  the  other  image, 

what  one  supposes  the  other  to  be, 

or  rather  what  it  should  be,  must  be, 

and  one  destroys  not  only  the  image, 

but  the  reality  as  well — 

if  there  is  a  reality  in  her  for  me, 

if  she  is,  not  seems, 

and  I  don't  learn,  as  of  old, 

one  asks  her  to  be  what  one  wants  her  to  be — 

is  so  much  of  oneself  so  unfriendly? 
She — If  you'll  tell  me  the  direction  of  it, 

your  saying,  I  love  you, 

my  saying,  I  love  you, 

and  the  first  apprehension  of  caresses — 
68 


BLUE  AND  GREEN 

He — Desire  and  satiety— 
She — Desire  and  satiety — 
He — How  much  of  it  will  repeat  past  adventuring, 

with  the  inevitable  disclosure, 

one  is  what  one  is — 
She — And  chance  is  what  it  is — 
He — The  moon,  sun,  sea,  hill,  earth,  tree  or  flower 

playing  circumstance 

to  what-he-is,  what-she-is 

and  what-they-are-together 

all  over  the  world ! 
She — Dear — 

so  dear  you  are  to  me — 

let  us  go  on  sitting  so, 

you  there,  I  here, 

under  these  dark,  weird,  clamorous  trees, 

until  the  first  interruption, 

until  we  find  out — 
He — Though  I  can  tell  and  you  can  tell, 

we'll  never  find  out  till  we  try? 
She — And  should  we  try? 
He — Should  we  try — 
She — Most  likely  because  it's  ever  the  fashion, 

I'll  know  even  less, 

and  you'll  know  even  less — 
He — And  I'll  wonder  why  we  tried, 

and  you'll  wonder  why  we  tried — 
57i£— And  I'll  be  more  stupid, 

and  you'll  be  more  stupid — 
He — And  a  little  sadder— 
69 


PLAYS  FOR  POEM-MIMES 

She — And  a  little  sadder — 

He — And  a  little  lonesomer — 

She — And  a  little  lonesomer — 

He — And  I'll  sit  down  with  some  other — 

She — And  I'll  sit  down  with  some  other — 

He — Just  like  this,  just  like  that — 

She — And  we'll  begin  again — 

if  not  from  the  beginning — 
He — And  I'll  recall  you  as  I  watch  her, 

and  you,  me  as  you  watch  him — 
She — And  I'll  marvel  and  you'll  marvel 

that  one's  feeling — 

He — Is  it  the  same,  though  not  the  same? 
She — And  so  on  and  around  and  back  again. 
He — That's  a  beautiful  sky  through  there — 

California  skies  are  bluest  of  all, 

and  California  deserts 

and  California  seas 

and  California  clouds — 
She — And  that  will  be  a  beautiful  sky — 

Maine  skies  are  greenest  of  all, 

and  Maine  woods 

and  Maine  lakes 

and  the  grass  of  Maine — 
He — Or  will  it  be  Oregon — 

where  will  it  be  ? 
She — Dearest, 

if  you'll  tell  me  what  love  is, 

if  you'll  tell  me  it's  ever  so  little, 

a  little  outside  the  circle, 
70 


BLUE  AND  GREEN 

I'll  butterfly  chance  with  you 

beyond  these  terrible  trees — 

and  over  the  calm  of  the  Pacific 

to  white-shawled  China — 
He — Are  the  waves  out  there  white-shawled  ? 

Which  is  the  mirage — 

wave  or  shawl — 

do  you  care? 
She — Or  sit  just  so — 
He — You  there,  I  here — 
57^— Until— 
He— Until— 

some  tower  bell, 

duty  call — 

finds  us  asleep ! 
She — Or  the  sun  blink  us  dead ! 

****** 

( The  scenes  are  touched  with  the  light  of  the  moon. 
A  few  weeks  later.  The  young  man  is  walking  about 
among  the  cedars.  He  stops  near  a  gravestone — of 
which  there  are  several;  they  are  small  and  old.) 

Graveyards  ? 

I  suppose  they  are — 

fun. 

This  fellow  down  here — 

who — 

whom  did  he  love  and — 

she? 

Did  she — did  she  have  cruel — 


eyes? 


71 


PLAYS  FOR  POEM-MIMES 

Did  she — oh  those  trees ! 

Why  do  they  hunch  their  backs  and — 

sigh? 

Did  she — and  that  wind ! 

What  makes  him  cramp  his  chest  and— 

groan  ? 

And   that    sea,    and   the   moon,   those    infernal 
clouds — 

Didn't  she — didn't  she  love  him  at  all  ? 

And  these  white-eyed,  white-eyed  stones ! 

Graveyards  ? 

I  suppose  they  are — 

when  she  loves  you — 

fun. 

Ah  to  be  able  to  die ! 

(  The  young  •woman  appears.     The  young  man  tries 
to  retreat,  but  she  sees  him.) 
He — You  here? 
She — And  you  ? 
He — Then  you  must  love  me  a  little  ? 

Come  and  sit  down ! 
She — I'fn  afraid. 
He — Afraid  of  the  stones? 
She — Of  the  graves. 

He — Here's  a  stone  which  isn't  a  grave? 
(She  joins  him.    They  sit  down.) 
He — How  you  have  suffered  ! 
She — And  you! 
He — Am  I  not  dear  to  you? 
She— Yes,  and  I  ? 

72 


BLUE  AND  GREEN 

He — You  are  so  dear  to  me ! 

Dear! 
67^— Yes? 
He — Isn't  it  best  now 

to  give  suffering  its  way  with  us, 

like  a  sea  with  a  stone, 

and  let  the  spray  which  was  our  joy — 

the  spray  dancing  on  us 

while  bounding  and  tumbling  and  rolling  here — 

give  us  content? 

Suffering 

carves  smoothness 

which  cannot  cut  any  longer, 

should  we  roll  again  ? 
She — We  will  never  roll  again. 
He—We  will ! 
She — Not  with  each  other. 
He — With  somebody  else? 
She — Nor  somebody  else. 
He — Not  in  Maine? 
She — Nor  in  Oregon. 
He — We  aren't  bubbles  ? 
She — We  are. 
He — We  are  alive! 
She — Not  for  each  other. 
He — We  are  here! 
She—Yes. 

He — What  brought  us  here  ? 
She— Death. 

He — What  estranged  us? 
73 


PLAYS  FOR  POEM-MIMES 

She — I  don't  know. 
He — Why  did  you — 

slip  behind  a  rock? 
She — I  don't  know. 
He — Did   I    do   something? 
She— No. 

He — Did  you?     Did  we? 
She— No. 

He — What  estranged  us? 
She — What  we  didn't  do — 

love! 

He — We  did  love. 
She— We  loved— 
He—We  did  love? 
She — Ourselves. 
He — What  brought  you  here? 
She — A  burial. 
He— What  burial? 
She — I  have  come 

from  pride 

all  the  way  up  to  humility 

this  day-to-night. 

The  hill 

was  more  terrible 

than  ever  before. 

This  is  the  top; 

there  is  the  tall,  slim  tree. 

It  isn't  bent ;  it  doesn't  lean ; 

it  is  only  looking  back. 

At   dawn, 

74 


BLUE  AND  GREEN 

under  that  tree, 

still  another  me  of  mine 

was  buried. 

Waiting  for  me  to  come  again, 

humorously  solicitous 

of  what  I  bring  next — 

it  looks  down. 
He — Of  what  you  bring  next? 

Then  you'll  live  again? 

You  are  alive? 

She — Everything  which  isn't  love. 
He — Then  you  did  love — 
She — I  did  not,  nor  you. 
He— I  did! 

She — You  loved  yourself. 
He — And  what  lies  buried  there? 
She — My  self-love. 
He— But  I  loved 

you, 

I  loved 

you, 

I  loved — 
She— You. 

(He  draws  closer  to  her;  timidly  puts  his  arm  about 
her.    She  does  not  resist.     Two    shadows  take  entity 
among  the  live  oaks.     They  dance  a  dirge.) 
He — Let  memory  have  its  way  for  a  while ! 

Think  of  the  life  we  had ! 

(She  bows  her  head.     The  shadows  move  with  a 
little  animation;  they  offer  strange  love  to  each  other 

75 


PLAYS  FOR  POEM-MIMES 

—fragments  of  the  lovers'  life  in  Scene  I.    They  bring 
gifts  to  each  other.     They  dance,  hand  in  hand;  then 
well  apart,  then  hand  in  hand,  then  far  apart.) 
He — Weren't  our  gifts — 
She — Self-love. 
He — Our  thoughts? 
She — Self-love. 
He — Didn't  we  have — 

each  of  the  other — 
She — We  are 

what  we  want. 

We  love 

what  we  receive 

of  what  we  want. 

Somewhere   between 

mountain  and  sea, 

relation  falls. 
He — What  did  you  want? 
She — Your  me. 
He— And  I? 
She — My  you. 

(He  bows  his  head.     She  notices  the  shadows.) 
She — Those  people  out  there 

moving  about  in  mist, 

dancing  mist, 

dancing  blue-gray  mist — 

(or  do  they  do  the  dancing?) 

he's  always  coming  so  close  to  her, 

she's  always  going  so  close  to  him — 

but  they  never  touch. 
76 


BLUE  AND  GREEN 

He — Don't  you  love  them? 

Queer  beautiful  things. 

Mist  people. 

Moving  mist  people. 

Dancing  mist  people. 

You  ought  to — 

you're  one  of  them. 
She — And  you. 

(The  shadows  vanish.     She  rises.     He  rises,  but 
does  not  detain  her.) 

He — Won't  you  come  again? 
She — Yes,  but  not  here. 
He — Then  I  may  hope — 
She — The  way  I  hope. 
He — Just  to  meet? 
She — Just  to  meet. 
He — Ah,  then  we  hope — 
She — Together,  yes. 

Good-night. 
He — Good-night. 

(She  leaves.    He  speaks,  and  leaves  in  the  opposite 
direction.) 

The  me  of  me 

I  would  have  you  love 

is  the  one  who  thinks  of  you. 

The  mes  of  me 

who  growl  their  love 

think  of  themselves. 

Only  your  me 

loves  you. 

77 


PLAYS  FOR  POEM-MIMES 

In  the  night, 

when  they, 

drunk  brawling  for  you, 

go  to  their  cots, 

he  rises, 

lights  a  candle, 

and  silently,  bravely, 

begins  a  new  service. 

(The  man-shadow  appears  for  a  moment  in  Scene 
II  and  suggests  the  reference  to  the  lighting  of  a 
candle.) 


(It  is  early  morning.  The  young  woman  may  be 
seen  under  the  eucalyptus.  The  man-shadow — in 
Scene  II — dances  to  her  opening  lines.) 

He  came, 

that  wistful  child, 

on  his  way  to  red, 

deep   red: 

he  came — 

and  they  tried  to  tell  me, 

he  was  dawn. 

He  went, 

that  listless  thing, 

on  his  way  to  black, 

deep  black: 

he  went — 

and  they  tried  to  tell  me, 

he  was  night. 

78 


BLUE  AND  GREEN 

(The  young  man  enters.    He  comes  forward  with- 
out  astonishment.    She  joins  him.) 
He — I  knew  I  would  find  you. 
She — I  knew  you  would  come. 
He — Are  you  glad? 
She — I  am  glad. 

(They  touch  hands.  He  looks  about  and  then  at 
the  sky.  So  does  she.  The  ivoman-shadow  joins  the 
man-shadow  in  Scene  II.) 

He — In  the  great  clouds  there  is  rain. 

A  swift  rain. 

A  rain  that  kills. 
She — And  a  slow  rain. 

A  rain  that  comes  like  leaves. 
He — I  would  be  the  slow  rain. 
She — In  the  hills  there  is  a  god 

who  rolls  from  side  to  side. 
He — In  the  valley  a  no-god 

who  lifts  his  arms  like  a  tree. 
She — I  would  be  the  no-god. 
He — In  the  market,  there  are  children. 

And  there  are  old  people. 

Very  old  people. 
She — I  wouldn't  be  the  children, 

but  the  old  people, 

the  very  old  people. 
He — There  is  a  woman. 

Big  with  gentle  yielding. 
She — I  would  be  like  her. 
(He  turns  her  towards  the  eucalyptus.) 
79 


PLAYS  FOR  POEM-MIMES 

He — There's  a  tree  not  far  away. 

I  think  I  could  climb  it. 

And  I  know  I'd  like  to  climb  it. 

And  there's  a  reason  I'd  like  to  climb  it. 

Do  you  see  the  parasol  of  flowers — 

that's  half  the  reason — 

the  other,  I'm  certain  you'd  like  one. 

(These  are  the  facts.) 

One  of  the  flowers  would  .do. 

It  has  delicate  Indian-red  radii — 
She — They  spread  from  a  cup  of  an  olive  shade — 
He — And  the  cup  is  hard,  like  an  acorn — 
She — And  the  outside  turns 

from  olive  green  to  faint  amber  to  old  rose — 
He — And  the  cup  has  a  stem,  like  a  darning  needle, 

olive  green,  faint  amber,  old  rose, 

a  stem  you  can  stick  in  your  hair, 

or  slip  in  a  slit  of  your  bodice — 

your  hair  is  the  proper  shade, 

and  your  bodice  of  the  lemon  green. 

Indeed,  you  could  fancy  the  flower  a  parasol 

and  hold  it  over  your  head — 

but  your  head,   though   small,   would   feel  the 

sun. 

She — Or   the   rain  ! 
He — (These  are  facts  of  the  flower.) 

The  tree  isn't  far  away. 

I    feel  I  could  climb  it. 

But  a  thought  hinders  me. 

I've  dealt  in  flowers  heretofore — 
80 


BLUE  AND  GREEN 

She — And  in  sea  shells,  and  music, 

and  antiquated  books,  and  coins, 

and  bowls,  and  nondescript  trinkets — 
He — And  in  unseen  gifts, 

intangible  things  one  hasn't  a  name  for. 

And  the  folk  who  took  them — 
She — Put  them  to  strange  uses, 

devices  you  never  intended. 
He — Often  I  gave  them  for  the  fun  of  giving — 

not  that  giving  we  deem  a  virtue — 
She — But  that  giving  which  is  solace 

against  asking  and  receiving. 

He — Often  I  gave  them  for  the  fun  of  receiving- 
was  that  an  evil  receiving? 

Often  I  gave  them  without  calculation — 

at  any  rate,  often  I  gave  them. 
She — And  they  fell  into  antics, 

played  upon  by  folk  pranks  of  character — 
He — Pranks  I'll  never  understand — 
She — Born  of  misrepresentation — 
He — Innocent  misrepresentation. 

You  know  the  misadventure — 

there  are  lines,   radii, 

near  your  eyes  and  in  your  cheeks. 

(These  are  facts  of  misadventuring.) 
She — The  tree  isn't  far  away. 
He — And  you'd  like,  at  least,  that  Indian  flower. 

What  shall  I  do? 
She — Would  intimacy  come, 

olive  green,  faint  amber,  old  rose? 
81 


PLAYS  FOR  POEM-MIMES 

What  would  happen  then? 
Pie — Lesser  radii — 

for  the  moment? 
She — Deeper  radii — 

for  all  time? 
He—  (This  is  the  inference.) 

Would  you  have  me — do? 

(She  nods  almost  imperceptibly.  It  has  begun,  al 
most  imperceptibly,  to  rain.  He  leads  her  under  the 
tree.) 

He — Come  and  sit  down — 

if  you  aren't  afraid? 
She — I  am  not  afraid ! 
He— See,  there  are  fallen  flowers  here. 
She — You  won't  have  to  climb ! 
He — I  am  tired. 
She — Dear,  sit  down — 

and  I'll  bring  you  a  flower. 

(After  a  tender  pantomime  of  urging  and  resist 
ance,   she   makes   him   sit   down,   and    brings   him   a 
flower.     Pie,  too,  has  found  one;  so  they  exchange. 
She  sits  down  beside  him.)     . 
He— This  isn't  Maine! 
She — Nor  Oregon! 
He — But  it's  green  here! 
She — And  I'll  sit  down  with  some  other — 
He— And  I'll  sit  down  with  some  other— 
She— Just  like  this— 
He— Just  like  that— 
(They  laugh  quietly.) 

82 


BLUE  AND  GREEN 

He — And  we'll  begin  again — 

She — If  not  from  the  beginning — 

He — And  I'll  recall  you— 

She — And  I'll  recall  you — 

He— And  I'll  marvel— 

She — That  one's  feeling — 

He — Is  it  the  same,  though  not  the  same? 

She — It's  a  little  sadder— 

He— It's  a  little  sadder? 

She — And  a  little  lonesomer — 

He — And  a  little  lonesomer? 

She — I  can't  breathe,  can't  live — 

He — Without  me? 

She — Without  me! 

He — Am  I  your  me? 

She — And  I  yours! 

He— Still? 

She— Still ! 

(They  laugh  again,  and  embrace  tenderly.) 

He — And  what  shall  we  do  for  our  you? 
She — There  is  no  you — 
He — But  suppose 

your  me 

and  my  you — 

suppose 

your  me 

and  my  you — 
She — Have  a  little  you? 
He — Have  a  little  you! 
83 


PLAYS  FOR  POEM-MIMES 

(She  rises;  he  rises.  She  leads  him  from  the  tree. 
It  has  stopped  raining.  The  shadows  have  vanished.) 

She — Let  us  go. 

He — Which  way? 

She — This  way. 

He — That  way? 

She — And  beyond. 

He — And  beyond? 

She — Towards  you! 

He — And  you! 

(Arm  in  arm,  they  disappear.  The  shadows  come 
for  a  moment  into  Scene  III  and  dance  an  ethereal 
movement,  suggesting  an  apotheosis  of  the  last  mo 
tive.  Curtain.) 


84 


MANIKIN  AND  MINIKIN 

(A  Bisque-Play) 


MANIKIN  AND  MINIKIN 
A  BISQUE-PLAY 

(Seen  through  an  oval  frame,  one  of  the  walls  of 
a  parlor.  The  zvallpaper  is  a  conventionalised  pattern. 
Only  the  shelf  of  the  mantelpiece  shows.  At  each  end, 
seated  on  pedestals  turned  slightly  away  from  one 
another,  two  aristocratic  bisque  figures,  a  boy  in  deli 
cate  ccrisse  and  a  girl  in  cornflower  blue.  Their 
shadows  join  in  a  grotesque  silhouette.  In  the  center, 
an  ancient  clock  whose  tick  acts  as  the  metronome  for 
the  sound  of  their  high  voices.  Presently,  the  mouths 
of  the  figures  open  and  shut  after  the  mode  of  ordi 
nary  conversation.) 

She — Manikin ! 

He — Minikin  ? 

She — That  fool  of  a  servant  has  done  it  again. 

He — I  should  say,  she's  more  than  a  fool. 

She — A  meddlesome  busybody — 

He — A  brittle-fingered  noddy ! 

She — Which  way  are  you  looking?    What  do  you 
see? 

He — The  everlasting  armchair, 
the  everlasting  tiger  skin, 
the  everlasting  yellow,  green  and  purple  books, 
87 


PLAYS  FOR  POEM-MIMES 

the  everlasting  portrait  of  milord — 
She — Qh  these  Yankees  ! — and  I  see 

the  everlasting  rattan  rocker, 

the  everlasting  samovar, 

the  everlasting  noisy  piano, 

the  everlasting  portrait  of  milady — 
He — Simpering  spectacle  ! 
She — What  does  she  want,   always  dusting? 
He — I  should  say — 

that  is,  I'd  consider  the  thought — 
She — You'd  consider  a  lie — 

oh  Manikin — 

you're  trying  to  defend  her! 
He — I'm  not  defending  her — 
She — You're  trying  to — 
He — I'm  not  trying  to — 
She — Then  what  are  you  trying  to — 
He — Well,  I'd  venture  to  say, 

if  she'd  only  stay  away  some  morning — 
She — That's  what  I  say  in  my  dreams ! 
He — She  and  her  broom — 
She — Her  everlasting  broom — 
He — She  wouldn't  be  sweeping — 
She — Every  corner,  every  cranny,  every  crevice — 
He — And  the  dust  wouldn't  move — 
She — Wouldn't  crawl,  wouldn't  rise,  wouldn't  fly- 
He — And  cover  us  all  over — 
She — Like  a  spider-web — ugh ! 
He — Everlasting  dust  has  been  most  of  our  life- 
She — Everlasting  years  and  years  of  dust! 


MANIKIN  AND  MANIKIN 

He — You  on  your  lovely  blue  gown — 

She — And  you  on  your  manly  pink  cloak. 

He — If     she     didn't     sweep,     we     wouldn't     need 

dusting — 

She — Nor  need  taking  down,  I  should  say — 
He — With  her  stupid,  clumsy  hands — 
She — Her  crooked,  monkey  paws — 
He — And  we  wouldn't  need  putting  back — 
She — I  with  my  back  to  you — 
He — I  with  my  back  to  you. 
She — It's  been  hours,  days,  weeks — 

by  the  sound  of  that  everlasting  clock — 

and  the  coming  of  day  and  the  going  of  day — 

since  I  saw  you  last! 
He — What's  the  use  of  the  sun 

with  its  butterfly  wings  of  light — 

what's  the  use  of  a  sun  made  to  see  by — 

if  I  can't  see  you! 
She — Manikin ! 
He — Minikin  ? 
She — Say  that  again  ! 

He — Why  should  I  say  it  again — don't  you  know? 
She — I  know,  but  sometimes  I  doubt — 
He — Why  do  you,  what  do  you  doubt? 
She — Please  say  it  again ! 
He — What's  the  use  of  a  sun  - 
She — What's  the  use  of  a  sun? 
He — That  was  made  to  see  by — 
She — That  was  made  to  see  by? 
He — I  f  I  can't  see  you  ! 
89 


PLAYS  FOR  POEM-MIMES 

She— Oh,  Manikin! 

He — Minikin? 

She — If  you  hadn't  said  that  again, 

my  doubt  would  have  filled  a  balloon. 
He — Your  doubt,  which  doubt,  what  doubt? 
She — And  although  I  can't  move, 

although  I  can't  move  unless  somebody  shoves 
me, 

one  of  these  days  when  the  sun  isn't  here, 

I  would  have  slipped  over  the  edge 

of  this  everlasting  shelf — 
He — Minikin ! 
She — And  fallen  to  that  everlasting  floor 

into  so  many  fragments, 

they'd  never  paste  Minikin  together  again! 
He — Minikin,  Minikin! 
She — They'd  have  to  set  another  here — 

some  Ninikin,  I'm  assured! 
He — Why  do  you  chatter  so,  prattle  so? 
She — -Because  of  my  doubt — 

because  I'm  as.  positive  as  I  am 

that  I  sit  here  with  my  knees  in  a  knot — 

that  that  human  creature — loves  you. 
He — Loves  me? 
She — And  you  her ! 

He — Minikin ! 
'  '•  \ 

She — When  she  takes  us  down  she  holds  you  much 

longer. 

He — Minikin ! 

She — I'm  sufficiently  feminine — 
90 


,^.    MANIKIN  AND  MANIKIN 

and  certainly  old  enough — 

I  and  my  hundred  and  seventy  years — 

I  can  see,  I  can  feel 

by  her  manner  of  touching  me 

and  her  flicking  me  with  her  mop — 

the  creature  hates  me — 

she'd  like  to  drop  me,  that's  what  she  would ! 
He — Minikin ! 
She — Don't  you  venture  defending  her! 

Booby — you  don't  know  live  women! 

When  I'm  in  the  right  position 

I  can  note  how  she  fondles  you, 

pets  you  like  a  parrot  with  her  ringer  tip, 

blows  a  pinch  of  dust  from  your  eye 

with  her  softest  breath, 

holds  you  off  at  arm's  length 

and  fixes  you  with  her  spider  look, 

actually  holds  you  against  her  cheek — 

her  rose-tinted  cheek — 

before  she  releases  you! 

If  she  didn't  turn  us  apart  so  often, 

I  wouldn't  charge  her  with  insinuation; 

but  now  I  know  she  loves  you — 

she's  as  jealous  as  I  am — 

and  poor  dead  me  in  her  live  power! 

Manikin  ? 
He — Minikin  ? 
She — If  you  could  see  me — 

the  way  you  see  her — 
He — But  I  see  you — 

91 


PLAYS  FOR  POEM-MIMES 

see  you  always — 

see  only  you ! 
She — If  you  could  see  me 

the  way  you  see  her, 

you'd  still  love  me, 

you'd  love  me  the  way  you  do  her! 

Who  made  me  what  I  am? 

Who  dreamed  me  in  motionless  clay? 
He — Minikin  ? 
She — Manikin  ? 
He — Will  you  listen  to  me? 
She— No ! 

He — Will  you  listen  to  me? 
She— No. 

He — Will  you  listen  to  me? 
She— Yes. 
He — I  love  you — 
She— No  \ 

He — I've  always  loved  you — 
She— No. 

He — You  doubt  that? 
She— Yes ! 

He— You  doubt  that? 
She— Yes. 

He— You  doubt  that? 
She— No. 

You've  always  loved  me — 

yes — 

but  you  don't  love  me  now — 

no — 

92 


MANIKIN  AND  MANIKIN 

not    since    that    rose-face    encountered    your 
glance — 

no. 

He — Minikin ! 
She — If  I  could  move  about  the  way  she  can — 

if  I  had  feet- 
dainty    white    feet    which    could    twinkle    and 
twirl — 

I'd  dance  you  so  prettily 

you'd  think  me  a  sun  butterfly— 

if  I  could  let  down  my  hair 

and  prove  you  it's  longer  than  larch  hair — 

if  I  could  raise  my  black  brows 

or  shrug  my  Harrow  shoulders, 

like  a  queen  or  a  countess — 

if  I  could  turn  my  head,  tilt  my  head, 

this  way  and  that,  like  a  swan — 

ogle  my  eyes,  like  a  peacock, 

till  you'd  marvel, 

they're    green,    nay,   violet,    nay,   yellow,    nay, 
gold— 

if  I  could  move,  only  move 

just  the  moment  of  an  inch — 

you  would  see  what  I  could  be! 

It's  a  change,  it's   a  change, 

you  men  ask  of  women ! 
He — A  change? 
She — You're  eye-sick,  heart-sick 

of  seeing  the  same  foolish  porcelain  thing, 

a  hundred  years  old, 
93 


PLAYS  FOR  POEM-MIMES 

a  hundred  and  fifty, 
and  sixty,  and  seventy — 
I  don't  know  how  old  I  am ! 

He — Not  an  exhalation  older  than  I — 
not  an  inhalation  younger! 
Minikin  ? 

She — Manikin?  - 

He — Will  you  listen  to  me? 

She— No  I 

He — Will  you  listen  to  me? 

She— No. 

He — Will  you  listen  to  me? 

She— Yes. 

Pie — I  don't  love  that  creature — 

She — You  do. 

He — I  can't  love  that  creature — 

She — You  can. 

He — Will  you  listen  to  me? 

She— Yes— 

if  you'll  tell  me — 

if  you'll  prove  me — 

so  my  last  particle  of  dust — 

the  tiniest  speck  of  a  molecule — 

the  merest  electron — 

He — Are  you  listening? 

She— Yes ! 

He — To  begin  with — 

I  dislike,  suspect,  deplore — 
I  had  best  say,  feel  compassion 
94 


MANIKIN  AND  MANIKIN 

for  what  is  called,  humanity — 

or  the  animate,  as  opposed  to  the  inanimate — 
She — You  say  that  so  wisely — 

you're  such  a  philosopher — 

say   it   again ! 
He — That  which  is  able  to  move 

can  never  be  steadfast,  you  understand? 

Let  us  consider  the  creature  at  hand 

to  whom  you  have  referred 

with  an  undue  excess  of  admiration 

adulterated  with  an  undue  excess  of  envy — 
She — Say  that  again! 
He — To  begin  with — 

I  can  only  see  part  of  her  at  once. 

She  moves  into  my  vision ; 

she  moves  out  of  my  vision; 

she  is  doomed  to  be  wayward. 
She — Yes,  but  that  which  you  see  of  her — 
He — Is  ugly,  commonplace,  unsightly. 

Her  face  a  rose-face? 

it's    veined    with    blood    and    the    skin    of    it 
wrinkles — 

her  eyes  are  ever  so  near  to  a  hen's — 

her  movements, 

if  one  would  pay  such  a  gait  with  regard — 

her  gait  is  unspeakably  ungainly— 

her  hair — 
She— Her  hair? 
He — Luckily  I've  never  seen  it  down — 

I  daresay  it  comes  down  in  the  dark, 
95 


PLAYS  FOR  POEM-MIMES 

when    it    looks,    most    assuredly,    like    tangled 

weeds — 

She — Again,  Manikin,  that  dulcet  phrase! 
He — Even  were  she  beautiful, 

she  were  never  so  beautiful  as  thou ! 
She — Now  you're  a  poet,   Manikin ! 
He — Even  were  she  so  beautiful  as  thou — 
lending  her  your  eyes, 

and  the  exquisite  head  which  holds  them — 
like  a  cup  two  last  beads  of  wine, 
like  a  stone  two  last  drops  of  rain, 
green,  nay,  violet,  nay,  yellow,  nay,  gold — 
She — Faster,   Manikin  ! 
He — I  can't,  Minikin  ! 

Words  were  never  given  to  man 
to  phrase  such  a  one  as  you  are — 
inanimate  symbols 
can  never  embrace,  embody,  hold 
the  animate  dream  that  you  are — 
I  must  cease. 
She — Manikin ! 
He — And  even  were  she  so  beautiful  as  thou, 

she  couldn't  stay  beautiful. 
She — Stay  beautiful  ? 

He — Humans  change  with  each  going  moment. 
That  is  a  gray-haired  platitude. 
Just  as  I  can  see  that  creature 
only  when  she  touches  my  vision, 
so  I  could  only  see  her  once,  were  she  beau 
tiful— 

96 


MANIKIN  AND  MANIKIN 

at  best,  twice  or  thrice — 
you're  more  precious-  than  when  you  came ! 
She — And  you  ! 

He — Human  pathos  penetrates  still  deeper 
when  one  determines  their  inner  life, 
as  we've  pondered  their  outer. 
Their  inner  changes  far  more  desperately. 
She — How  so,  wise  Manikin? 
He — They  have  what  philosophy  terms,  moods, 
and  moods  are  more  pervious  to  modulation 
than  pools  to  idle  breezes. 
These  people  may  say,  to  begin  with — 
I   love  you. 

This  may  be  true,  I'm  assured — 
as  true  as  when  we  say,  I  love  you. 
But  they  can  only  say, 
I   love   you, 

so  long  as  the  mood  breathes, 
so  long  as  the  breezes  blow, 
so  long  as  water  remains  wet. 
They  are  honest — 
they  mean  what  they  say- 
passionately,  tenaciously,  tragically — 
but  when  the  mood  languishes, 
they  have  to  say, 
if  it  be  they  are  honest — 
I  do  not  love  you. 
Or  they  have  to  say, 
1   love  you, 
to  somebody  else. 

97 


PLAYS  FOR  POEM-MIMES 

She — To  somebody  else? 
He — Now,  you  and  I — 

we've  said  that  to  each  other — 

we've  had  to  say  it 

for  a  hundred  and  seventy  years — 

and  we'll  have  to  say  it,  always. 
She — Say  always  again! 
He — The  life  of  an  animate — 
She — Say  always  again  ! 
He — Always ! 

The   life   of    an   animate 

is  a  procession  of  deaths 

with  but  a  secret  sorrowing  candle, 

guttering  lower  and  lower, 

on  the  path  to  the  grave — 

the  life  of  an  inanimate 

is  as  serenely  enduring — 

as  all  still  things  are. 
She— Still  things? 
He — Recall  our  childhood  in  the  English  museum— 

ere  we  were  moved, 

from  place  to  place, 

to  this  dreadful  Yankee  salon — 

do   you   remember 

that  little   old   Greek  tanagra 

of  the  girl  with  a  head  like  a  bud — 

that  little  old  Roman  medallion 

of  the  girl  with  a  head  like  a — 
She — Manikin,  Manikin — 

were  they  so  beautiful  as  I — 


MANIKIN  AND  MANIKIN 

did  you  love  them,  too — 

why  do  you  bring  them  back? 
He — They  were  not  so  beautiful  as  thou— 

I   spoke   of   them — 

recalled,  designated  them— 

well,  because  they  were  ages  old — 

and — and — 
She — And — and  ? 
He — And  we  might  live  as  long  as  they — 

as  they  did  and  do! 

I  hinted  their  existence 

because  they're  not  so  beautiful  as  thou, 

so  that  by  contrast  and  deduction — 
She — And  deduction? 
He — You  know  what  I'd  say— 
She — But  say  it  again ! 
He — I  love  you. 
She — Manikin  ? 
He — Minikin  ? 

She — Then  even  though  that  creature  has  turned  us 
apart, 

can  you  see  me? 
He — I  can  see  you. 
She — Even  though  you  haven't  seen  me 

for  hours,  days,  weeks — 
with  your  dear  blue  eyes — 
you  can  see  me — 
with  your  hidden  ones? 
He — I  can  see  you. 
She — Even  though  you  are  still, 
99 


PLAYS  FOR  POEM-MIMES 

and  calm,  and  smooth, 

and  lovely  outside — 

you  aren't  still  and  calm 

and  smooth  and  lovely  inside? 
He — Lovely,  yes — 

but  not  still  and  calm  and  smooth ! 
She — Which  way  are  you  looking?     What  do  you 

see? 
He — I  look  at  you. 

I  see  you. 
She — And  "if  that  fool  of  a  servant— 

oh,  Manikin — 

suppose  she  should  break  the  future — 

our  great,  happy  centuries  ahead — 

by  dropping  me,  throwing  me  down? 
He — I  should  take  an  immediate  step 

off  this  everlasting  shelf— 
She — But  you  cannot  move! 
He — The  good  wind  would  give  me  a  blow! 
She — Now  you're  a  punster ! 

And  what  would  your  fragments  do? 
Pie — They'd  do  what  Manikin  did. 
She — Say  that  again! 
He — They'd  do  what  Manikin  did.  .   .   . 
She — Manikin  ? 
He — Minikin  ? 

67^— Shall  I  tell  you  something? 
He — Tell  me  something. 
She — Are  you  listening? 
He — With  my  inner  ears. 
100 


MANIKIN  AND  MAN  11*1$: 

She — I  wasn't  jealous  of  that  woman — 

He — You  weren't  jealous? 

She — I  wanted  to  hear  you  talk— 

He—You  wanted  to  hear  me  talk? 

She — You  talk  so  wonderfully! 

He — Do  I,  indeed?    What  a  booby  I  am ! 

She — And  I  wanted  to  hear  you  say — 

He — You  cheat,  you  idler,  you — 

She — Woman — 

He — Dissembler ! 

She — Manikin  ? 

He— Minikin? 

She — Everlastingly  ? 

He — Everlastingly. 

She — Say  it  again! 

He — I  refuse — 

She — You  refuse? 

He— Well— 

She— Well  ? 

He — You  have  ears  outside  your  head — 

I'll  say  that  for  you — 

but  they'll  never  hear — 

what  your  other  ears  hear! 
She — Say  it — 

down  one  of  the  ears — 

outside  my  head? 
He — I  refuse. 
She — You  refuse? 
He — Leave  me  alone. 
She — Manikin  ? 

101 


PLAYS  FOR  POEM-MIMES 


He— I  can't  say  it! 
She — Manikin ! 

(The  clock  goes  on  ticking  for  a  moment.    Its  mel 
low  chimes  strike  the  hour.     Curtain.) 


102 


PEOPLE  WHO  DIE 

(A  Dream-Play) 


PEOPLE  WHO  DIE 
A  DREAM -PLAY 

(A  man  and  a  woman  are  sitting  on  a  bench  in 
front  of  a  curtain — they  might  be  35  years  old.  She 
is  leaning  against  his  shoulder  and  looking  at  a  tablet 
which  rests  on  his  lap.  He  is  moving  his  pencil  idly 
over  the  tablet.) 

He — I  should  like  to  write  a  play  about  death, 
but  it  must  not  have  people  in  it. 
It  must  have  people  in  it, 
but  not  people  who  die. 
It  must  have  death  in  it, 
but  the  death  must  not  touch 
people  who  die. 

She — Such  a  play  would  not  be  a  tragedy. 
He — The  death  must  touch 

the  people  who  die  in  people — 
nay,  the  people  who  die  between  people. 
'She — Such  a  play  might  be  a  tragedy. 
He — The  play,  then,  must  not  have  people  in  it — 
people  do  not  act  in  plays — 
what  is  between  them  acts  in  plays — 
the  people  between  them — 
they  act  in  plays. 

This  is  always  the  way  of  the  plot: 
105 


PLAYS  FOR  POEM-MIMES 

people  are  alone : 

people  seek  each  other : 

people  come  of  the  seeking: 

of  the  finding,  asking,  giving: 

it  is  they  who  act  in  plays: 

it  is  they  who  die. 

She — You  would  write  the  play  about  them? 
He — Nay,  I  should  like  the  play  to  be  my  play, 

the  people,  my  people ! 
She — Nay,  I  should  like  the  play  to  be  my  play, 

the  people,  my  people ! 

He — Nay,  the  people,  our  people,  the  play,  our  play ! 
She — Such  a  play  would  be  a  comedy! 
He — Will  you  do  the  other  part? 
(A  gong  sounds  gently.) 
She—Sh !     Begin ! 

There  goes  the  curtain  call! 

(The  curtain  spreads  part  way.  A  second  curtain, 
or  drapery,  old  rose  in  color,  is  disclosed,  and  a  young 
man  and  a  young  woman — they  might  be  20  years  old. 
Rapid  dialogue.) 

He — My  thought  of  you — 

is — is  like  a  rainbow — 

it — it  is  an  iris — 

no — it  is  a  peacock — 
She — Why  isn't  it  like  a  rainbow? 
He — It's  like  a  rainbow — 

and  it  isn't  like  a  rainbow — 

it's  a  rainbow  when  you  can  see  a  rainbow — 

not  a  rainbow  when  a  rainbow  is  gone. 
106 


PEOPLE  WHO  DIE 

She — Why  isn't  it  an  iris? 
He — It— it  is  an  iris — 

and  it — it  isn't  an  iris — 

it's  an  iris  when  an  iris  holds  her  bloom  like 
a  lady — 

not  an  iris  when  she's  old  and  faint  and  faded. 
She — Then  it's  a  peacock? 
He — It  isn't  a  peacock — 

it's  a  peacock  when  a  peacock  opens  his  tail 
eyes — 

and  each  eye  sees  you  in  its  own  way — 

whatever  the  color  and  shape  of  it — 

it  isn't  a  peacock  when  he  shuts  his  head  eyes — 

and  brings  all  the  others  back  to  sleep. 
She — Then  your  thought  of  me   changes? 
He — It  doesn't  change  ! 

It — it's  more  like  an  opal — 

yes — it's  more  like  an  opal — 
She — Doesn't  an  opal  change? 
He — The  water  in  an  opal  moves — 

the  quicksilver  quavers — 

the  music  undulates — 

but  the  stone,  the  stone — 

the  stone  of  an  opal  is  still — 

it's  the  stone  of  an  opal ! 
She — Your  thought  of  me? 
He — My  thought  of  you! 
She— And  I? 
He— You? 
She— What  am  I? 

107 


PLAYS  FOR  POEM-MIMES 


He—  you?     Why— 

you  are  what  I've  been  saying  of  you  — 

you  —  I  can't  say  what  you  are  — 

you  —  are  more  than  my  thought  of  you  — 

deeper,  higher,  more  colorful,  beautiful,  still- 
She—Oh  ! 
He—  Oh? 
She  —  I  want  your  thought  to  be  like  me  — 

I  —  I  want  to  be  like  your  thought  — 

you  —  you  are  holding  us  apart  — 

me  —  and  your  thought  of  me  ! 
He—  No! 
She—  No?    You— 

how  shall  I  know  you  love  me  — 

you  love  what  you  think  of  me  ! 
He  —  I  do  not  — 

I  —  see  here  ! 

What  is  your  thought  of  me 

if  it  isn't  like  my  thought  of  you? 
She  —  My  thought  of  you  — 

is  —  is  like  a  zebra  — 

it  —  it  has  big  stripes  in  it  — 

big  stripes  of  faith  — 
He  —  You  stutter  just  as  I  do! 
She  —  It  —  it  isn't  like  a  leopard  — 

the  spots  never  change  — 
He  —  You  have  two  spots  in  your  head  — 

they  change  — 
She—  They  do  not— 
He  —  They  change  me  ! 

108 


PEOPLE  WHO  DIE 

She — You  change? 

He — From  happy  to  happier  to  happiest  to  most 

happiest ! 

She — Come  back ! 
He — You'll  have  to  bring  me! 
(She  kisses  him.) 
She — Are  you  back  again? 
He — From  most  happiest  to  happiest  to  happier  to 

happy. 

She — Only  happy? 
He — Don't  send  me  off  again ! 
(She  holds  him.) 
He — Have  you  got  me? 
She — I  hope  so. 
He — Then  don't  you  look  at  me ! 
She—You ! 
He— You ! 
She — Rainbow — 
He — Zebra — 
She — Peacock — 
He — Leopard — 
She — I'll  eat  you. 
He — Eat  away ! 
She — Tail  and  all! 
He — Don't  forget  the  stone! 
She — I  can't  eat  the'  stone? 
He — Swallow  it! 
She— It  will  kill  me? 
He — I  hope  so. 
She— You ! 

109 


PLAYS  FOR  POEM-MIMES 

He— You ! 

(The  curtain  closes  abruptly.     After  a  pause,  the 
woman  speaks  slowly.) 

She — That  was  fifteen  years  ago. 
He — That  was  fifteen  years  ago. 
She — And  they  are  dead. 
He — And  they  are  dead. 
She — Two  marionnettes  ! 
He — Not  marionnettes  ! 
She — Two  dear  little  people. 
He — Two  dear  little  people. 
She— Why  did  they  die? 
He — Don't  disturb  the  plot- 
let  them  show  the  way  they  died. 
She — I  don't  want  to  see  any  more — 

it's  a  tragedy — 

He — Tragedy  there,  but  a  comedy  here  ! 
She — They  are  dead. 
He — They  are  alive. 
She — Poor  dear  little  people. 
He — Rich  dear  little  people. 
She — They  were  kind. 
He — They  were  kind. 
She — Little  grandfather. 
He — Little  grandmother. 
She — You. 
He— You. 

She — I  don't  want  to  see  any  more. 
(The  gong  sounds  again.) 
He—Sh\  Behave! 

110 


PEOPLE  WHO  DIE 

There  goes  the  curtain  call ! 

(The  curtain  spreads  part  way.  A  third  curtain,  or 
drapery,  gray  in  color,  is  disclosed,  and  a  young  man 
and  a  young  woman — they  might  be  25  years  old. 
Moderato  dialogue.) 

He — And  what  do  you  see  now? 
She — The  image  isn't  the  same. 
He — And  only  a  moment  ago — 
She — I  looked  just  then 

like  a  gargoyle  in  a  tree, 

I  looked  just  now 

like  a  pixy  or  a  dwarf. 
He — And  only  a  moment  ago, 

you  looked  like  a  child  seeing  light? 

What  made  the  water  move  ? 
She — The  wind  made  the  water  move — 

the  wind  sent  a  child-like  breeze — 

the  breeze  blew 

like  a  child  blowing  a  bubble, 

just  before  the  bubble  has  gone  too  far. 
He — And  all  is  still  down  there  again? 
She — Still  down  there,  but  not  in  me. 
He — Why  isn't  it  still  in  you  ? 
She — You  know  why. 

He — Where  did  the  child  of  the  wind  come  from? 
She — Outside. 

He — You  didn't  make  the  water  move  ? 
She — I  didn't  make  the  water  move. 
He — I  didn't  make  the  water  move  ? 
She — You  didn't  make  the  water  move. 
Ill 


PLAYS  FOR  POEM-MIMES 

He — Look  again. 

She — I  am  looking. 

He — All  is  still  down  there  ? 

She — Still  down  there,  but  not  in  me. 

He — What  has  happened  to  the  wind  outside  ? 

She — The  wind  outside  flew  away, 

and  left  a  child  of  itself  in  me, 

and  the  twin  child — 
He — The  twin  child? 
She — You  have  the  twin  child  in  you. 
He — I  have  not — 
She — You  have — 

dear — 

you  must  not  lie — 

we  must  not  lie — 

you  agreed,  we  must  not  lie. 
He — I  agreed,  we  must  not  lie. 
She — What  has  happened  to  me  has  happened  to 

you — 

I  am  not  alone  in  this? 
He — You  are  not  alone  in  this. 
She — You  look  again. 
He — I  am  looking. 
She — What  do  you  see  now  ? 
He — The  image  of  myself. 
She — The  image? 
He— Myself. 

She — What  do  you  look  like? 
He — I  don't  want  to  look — 

I  don't  want  to  see. 
112 


PEOPLE  WHO  DIE 

She — You  said  you  would  look. 

He — I  said  I  would. 

She — And  we  said  we  would  be  honest. 

He — We  said  we  would. 

She — Now  you  want  to  turn  away. 

He — It  hurts  to  look  at  oneself. 

She — Even  for  us  ? 

He — Even  for  us. 

She — We  will  never  be  able  to  see, 

unless  you  see  yourself,  and  I  myself. 
He— And  I  tell  you  what  I  see. 
She — And  I  tell  you  what  I  see. 
He — You  will  never  be  able  to  see  me 

till  I  tell  you  what  I  see. 
She — Now  you  are  brave — 

you  have  said  it  at  last. 
He — You  are  braver  than  I. 
She — Heretofore— 
He — Ah,   heretofore — 
She — We  were  dishonest — 
He — We  weren't  dishonest — 
She — We  weren't  dishonest — 

but  we  saw  only  what  we  tried  to  see — 

I  looked  only  at  you  and  you  at  me — 

and  I  only  looked  at  you  by  looking  at  myself. 
He — And  I  at  me. 
She — And  I  told  you  what  I  saw  in  me  was  you — 

so — 

when  a  breeze  came, 

and  a  second  breeze, 
113 


PLAYS  FOR  POEM-MIMES 

and  a  wind,  and  a  wind,  and  a  wind — 
He — And  a  wind,  and  a  wind,  and  a  wind — 
She — I  no  longer  saw  you  in  me — 

you  in  me  vanished. 
He — And  you  in  me. 
She — Look  at  me  in  the  pool. 
He — I  won't  look. 
She — Be  brave. 
He — I  can't  be. 

She — I'll  look  at  you  in  the  pool? 
He— I  will  look. 
She — Lean  farther  this  way — 

bring  your  head  closer — 

what  do  you  see  ? 
He— You. 
She— No? 

He — My  image  of  you. 
She— Sit  up- 
shut  your  eyes — 

what  do  you  see  now  ? 
He — I  see  a  pool. 
She — Where  is  the  pool  ? 
He — Down  in  me. 
She — Does  the  water  move? 
He — The  water  moves. 
She — Why  does  it  move  ? 
He — I  see  you  there. 
She — You  see  the  image  you  saw  outside — 

you  mustn't  see  that — 

if  it  weren't  there  the  water  wouldn't  move 
114 


PEOPLE  WHO  DIE 

He — I  know. 

She — You  must  see  yourself ! 

He — I  can't  see  myself  if  I  don't  see  you ! 

She — That  is  where  the  shadow  moves ! 

If  it  would  only  die ! 
He— What  shall  we  do? 
She — I  don't  know. 
He — I  want  to  open  my  eyes. 
She— Don't,  don't ! 
He— It  is  dark ! 

I  am  afraid ! 
She — You  must  be  brave. 
He — Give  me  your  hand. 
She — Here. 
He— Where  is  it? 
She — There. 

He — If  the  shadow  would  only  die! 
She — Be  brave, 

and  it  will  die. 
He — I  begin  to  see  myself— 
She — What  do  you  see? 
He — I  only  begin  to  see — 
She — Look,  look— 

and  tell  me  what  you  see ! 
He — I  wish  you  would  look  for  me ! 
She — I  cannot — 

I  must  not — 

tell  me  what  you  see? 
He — I  cannot — 

I  still  see— 

115 


PLAYS  FOR  POEM-MIMES 

what  I  am  trying  to  see! 
She— Me? 
He— You.     Oh— 

give  me  yet  a  while — 

the  length  of  a  breeze — 

the  last  breeze — 

to  be  brave  ? 
She— I  will. 
He — The  last  breeze  is  so  soft— 

so  beautiful— 

and  clear  water  so  cruel. 
She — And  will  you  tell  me  ? 
He — As  soon  as  I  can  see. 
She— Then  here  is  the  last  breeze. 
(She  caresses  him  quickly.    He  opens  his  eyes.    He 
caresses  her.    She  opens  her  eyes.) 
He — Gargoyle — 
She— Child— 
He— Pixy— 
She— Child. 

(The  curtain  closes  abruptly.     After  a  pause,  the 
woman  speaks  excitedly.) 

She— That  was  ten  years  ago. 
He — More  or  less. 
She — How  could  she- 
how  dare  she  be  so  cruel  ? 
He — She  was  brave. 

There's  no  bravery  like  cruelty. 
She— She  had  a  poniard  in  her— 
she  stabbed  him  with  it — 
116 


PEOPLE  WHO  DIE 

how  he  bled,  how  he  died — 

He — As  brave  a  human — 

She— He? 

He— She ! 

She  made  him  see  himself — 
he  who  would  look  at  her — 
there's  no  bravery  like  that — 

She— What  did  he  see? 

He — You  know  \vhat  he  saw — 
you  mustn't  disturb  the  plot. 

She — I  don't  want  any  plot, 
I  don't  want  any  play — 
tell  me  what  he  saw ! 

He — The  surest  way  to  life  is  art — 

She — I  don't  want  to  see  life, 
I  don't  want  to  see  art — 
tell  me  what  he  saw ! 

He — You  know  what  he  saw— 
if  you  don't  you're  still— 
you're  an  owl  in  the  sun ! 

She — I  know- 
he  saw  the  most  beautiful— 
the  most  courageous — 
the  most  patient — 

He — Superlative  hyperbole — 
three  lies  in  succession — 
lies  have  no  part  in  real  life? 

She — I'm  not  lying — 

He— Sh ! 

She — It's  you  who  would  lie — 
117 


PLAYS  FOR  POEM-MIMES 

He—Sh\ 

She — He  saw — 

he  saw — 

he  still  sees — 

he  still  sees — 
He— Be  still ! 
(The  gong  sounds  again.) 
He — There  goes  the  curtain  call ! 
She — I  don't  want  your  dumb  play- 
it's  horrible — I  want — 
He — We  can't  hold  curtains 

for  you  and  your  wants — 
She — I  want — 
He— Be  still! 
She— Stupid  old  play ! 
He— Sh! 

(The  curtain  spreads  part  zvay.  A  fourth  curtain, 
or  drapery,  blue  in  color,  is  disclosed,  and  a  young 
man  and  a  young  woman — they  might  be  30  years 
old.) 

He — I  know  a  shell, 

a  plain  white  shell, 

I  like  to  hold  to  my  ear. 

Perhaps  it  tells  something 

in  no  phrase  different 

from  the  talk  of  other  shells ; 

perhaps  it  isn't  kin 

to  sea  sand 

or  white  clouds ; 

perhaps  it  is  only 

118 


PEOPLE  WHO  DIE 

myself  I  hear  there. 

But  I  know  a  shell, 

a  plain  white  shell, 

I  like  to  hold  to  my  ear. 
She — What  a  quaint  soft  tune ! 

And  where  is  the  shell? 

Is  it  this  one? 
He — That  has  three  coral  veins  in  it — 

one  touch  of  red,  and  the  white  is  gone ! 
She — Is  it  this  one? 
He — That  has  a  speck,  a  blue  speck — 

like  a  white  dream  doubted. 
She — Is  it  this — 

this  is  a  white? 
He — That  is  a  white, 

but  not  the  white  of  the  tune. 
She — Where  is  the  shell  you  know? 

Didn't  the  sea  bring  it  in? 
He — The  sea  didn't  bring  it. 
She — How  could  you  find  it — 

sea  shells  come  from  the  sea  ? 
He — This  isn't  a  sea  shell. 
She — Then  you  didn't  find  it  here? 
He — I  found  it  here. 
She — You  know  a  shell, 

a  plain  white  shell, 

you  like  to  hold  to  your  ear. 

It  must  be  outside  of  you  ? 
He — Because  I  can  see  myself. 
She— What  has  that  to  do  with  hearing? 
119 


PLAYS  FOR  POEM-MIMES 

He — The  roar  inside  must  subside 

ere  I  can  see  myself,  and  hear. 
She — The   roar   inside  ? 
He — The  roar  of  you. 
She — We  were  two  oceans? 
He — We  were. 

She — And  what  are  we  now? 
He — Two  people, 

each  with  a  shell  to  his  ear. 
She — Perhaps  it  tells  something 

in  no  phrase  different 

from  the  talk  of  other  shells. 

What  does  that  say  to  you? 
He— Shells  all  tell  the  same  tale 

after  they  have  left  the  ocean. 
She — Ours  have  left  the  ocean? 
He — Utterly. 

She — He  taught  them  their  tale? 
He— lie  did. 

She— What  did  he  tell  them  ? 
He — He  said, 

I  am  alone — 

he  said, 

there  is  another,  alone  as  I — 

he  said, 

tell  that  other,  I  am  alone — 

he  said, 

ask  that  other,  is  she  alone? — 

he  said, 

tell  that  other, 

120 


PEOPLE  WHO  DIE 

I  am  she,  and  she  is  I — 

he  said, 

ask  that  other — 
She— Ask  that  other? 
//^—Whether  I  lie? 
She — She  said, 

tell  that  other, 

he  does  not  lie. 
He — Perhaps  it  isn't  kin — 
She — To  sea  sand 

or  white  clouds. 

What  does  that  say  to  you? 
He — Sea  sand 

and  white  clouds 

go  away. 

She — What  makes  them  move? 
He — The  water  in  them. 
She — Shells  do  not  move? 
He — Shells  do  not  move. 
She — They  came  from  the  oceans? 

Oceans  are  water? 
He — The  oceans  were  still — 

and  so,  then,  the  tale 

they  gave  to  the  shells. 
She — A  tale  is  very  delicate! 
He — And  indestructible ! 
She — Perhaps  it  is  only 

myself  I  hear  there — 
He — Perhaps  it  is  only 

myself  I  hear  there. 
121 


PLAYS  FOR  POEM-MIMES 

She — A  quaint  soft  tune! 

Has  your  stillness 

another  to  sing  to  me? 
He — One  plus  one  plus  one  plus — 
She — I'll  give  you 

green  kelp  for  laurel  cap? 
He — Wear  it  round  your  neck. 

Are  you  ready? 
She — I  am. 

He — Hold  the  shell  to  your  ear. 
She — This  one? 
He — No,  that  one. 
She— Which  one? 
He — Your  hand. 
She— Which  hand  ? 
//£— Either. 

She — The  other  would  be  lonesome? 
He — Give  it  to  me. 

Are  you  ready? 
She-^- Yes,  hurry. 

He — Close  it  tight  or  a  breeze  will  slip  in ! 
She — Simpleton — 

sprite — 

fish- 
dolphin — 

He — Do  you  worship — 
She— Wait,  I  must  listen ! 

Now !     Come ! 
He — Do  you  worship  a  sea 

to  which  you  can  never  be  more 
122 


PEOPLE  WHO  DIE 

than  a  stone  for  melting  into  sand? 

It  is  greater  than  revenge! 

Are  you  carving  a  pebble, 

one  foolish  white  pebble, 

the  waves  cannot  reach? 

It  is  greater  than  sflence, 

a  thing  to  scorn  dissolution, 

a  greater  tomb  than  mountains ! 

She — That  is  a  queer,  a  terrible  tune. 

He — Queer,  not  terrible. 

She — Is  it  the  same  sea,  the  same? 

He — The  same  two  seas. 

She— And  the  pebble— 
you  are  the  pebble! 

He — And  you. 

She—Oh\ 

He— Oh? 

She — Let's  throw  pebbles  to  each  other- 
there  are  millions  of  pebbles  here! 

He — Throw  pebbles? 

She — Toss  them — 
ever  so  gently — 
let's  play  we  are  pebbles — 
and  toss  them — 
like  rainbow  curves — 
or  an  ellipse  of  the  moon — 
or  arc  of  fountain  streams! 

He—Sh— 

some  of  them  might  fall ! 

She — I  don't  care — 

123 


PLAYS  FOR  POEM-MIMES 

there  are  others — 

millions  of  them — 

let's  play  we  are  pebbles — 

even  unto  the  last  one — 

our  tomb — 

the  tomb  pebble ! 
He — Nymph — 

sea-urchin — 

mollusc — 
She—Pebble ! 
//£— Pebble ! 

(They  begin  to  toss  imaginary  pebbles  with  varied 
exclamations.     The  curtain  closes  abruptly.     After  a 
pause,  the  woman  speaks  dreamily.} 
She — I  am  tired, 

very  sleepy — 

He — That  was  five  years  ago. 
She — I  am  very  tired, 

very  sleepy — 

He — That  was  five  years  ago. 
She — Put  your  tablet  away — 

let  it  rest— 
He — I  should  like  to  write  a  play  about  life, 

this  play  is  too  much  like  a  dream. 

I  should  like  to  write  the  play  about  life, 

but  it  must  not  have  people  in  it, 

people  are  too  much  like  a  dream. 
She— Ob- 
He — It  must  have  people  in  it, 

but  not  people  who  live. 
124 


PEOPLE  WHO  DIE 

It  must  have  a  dream  in  it, 

but  the  dream  must  not  touch 

people  who  live. 
She— Oh— 

I  am  so  sleepy— 

my  head  is  so  sleepy— 
He — The  life  must  touch 

the  people  who  dream  in  people — 

nay,  the  people — 
She — The  people — 
He — The  people — 
She — Where  is  your  arm — 

do  you  love  me? — 

put  it  about  me. 
He — Where  is  yours — 

do  you  love  me? — 

put  yours  about  me. 
She — Are  you  tired? 
He — I  am  tired. 
She — Shut  your  eyes. 
He — Shut  your  eyes. 

(Gradually,  they  fall  into  a  doze.     Gradually,  the 
curtain  opens  part  way.    The  scene  is  fairly  dark,  but 
the  outlines  of  two  shadows  may  be  discerned.     They 
speak  in  lively  echo-whispers.} 
He — Hello,  dream  ! 
She — Hello,  dream  ! 
He — What  are  you  doing  here? 
She — What  are  you  doing  here  ? 
He — WThy  did  you  go  away? 
125 


PLAYS  FOR  POEM-MIMES 

She — Why  did  you  go  away? 

He — You  said  you'd  never  return? 

She — You  said  you'd  never  return? 

He — What  do  you  want  now? 

She — What  do  you  want  now? 

He — I  want  you! 

She — I  want  you! 

He — Come  and  catch  me ! 

She — Come  and  catch  me ! 

He — Go  away ! 

She — Go  away! 

He — Don't  go  away! 

She — Don't  go  away ! 

He — If  you  must  go — 

She — If  you  must  go — 

He — Don't  go  for  more  than  a  nap ! 

She — Don't  go  for  more  than  a  nap! 

He — Hello,  people  ! 

She — Hello,  people! 

He — Have  you  got  me? 

She — Have  you  got  me? 

(He  laughs;  she  laughs.) 

(Final  Curtain.) 


126 


The  initial  performances  were  given  by  the  follow 
ing  casts,  to  whom  the  author  sends  his  grateful 
obeisance : 

The  St.  Louis  Players  in  "When  the  Willow  Nods" : 

The  Old  Figure Orrick  Johns 

The  Lass Marie  Church 

The  First  Lad George  O'Neil 

The  Second  Lad John  J.  Johns 

The  Provincetown  Players  in  "Lima  Beans" : 

The  Wife Mina  Loy 

The  Husband William  Carlos  Williams 

The  Huckster William  Zorach  • 

The  St.  Louis  Players  in  "Manikin  and  Minikin": 

Manikin Susan   Cost 

Minikin Cornelia    McNair 

The   Other   Players   in   "Jack's   House"— A   Melo- 
Poem — the  music  by  Julian  Freedman : 

Jack   Rihani 

Jack's  Wife Edna  St.  Vincent  Millay 


<  Wa. 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 
BERKELEY 

Return  to  desk  from  which  borrowed. 
This  book  is  DUE  on  the  last  date  stamped  below. 


.••-   '  ' 

MUM   30^948 

MAR1219' 

W  PORTAL 

rtOV 

REG.  CIR.    MAR 

83  1979 

21-100m-9,'47(A5702sl6)476 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 


